


The End of the World

by Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts



Series: A Little Mental [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Diamond City Radio, Dorks in Love, Drinking to Cope, Drug Use, Drunken Confessions, Falling In Love, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hallucinations, Hancock can sing, Hancock goes Feral, Hancock is trans, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, Loss of Control, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Road Trips, Robotics, Sick Character, Slow Dancing, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vomiting, brief attempt at suicide, but without the car, casual desecration of the american flag, road trip by foot, slight body horror, sole is mentioned but not around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-12-19 00:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 26,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11886507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts/pseuds/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts
Summary: Hancock is having more impulse control issues than usual and decides he needs Nick's help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Recently fell in love with Fallout 4 and by extension these two. Wondered how Hancock would handle slowly going feral.

At first it was little things; A blackout here or there, a little more hostility when he was annoyed. John chalked it up to all the chems in his system and figured he needed to cut down, not that he did. Nobody else noticed it. Or at least, if they did notice they weren’t saying anything. An angry ghoul was commonplace and the Mayor was still a teddy bear compared to one of those feral types.

What got his attention was a peculiar moment when some kid had run into Hancock. It really wasn’t an issue. Kids got rough with each other sometimes and this one was just chasing his friend. It was an accident, and normally John wouldn’t have bat a black eye. He certainly would never raise a hand to a child, but he did have the fleeting urge to swat the boy as hard as he could, clawing him across the face. He did _not_ strike the child. He did think about it for the rest of the day, however, before drinking himself to sleep. It was the first sign he noticed that something was wrong.

A few months later found Hancock at the wall of Diamond City. Ghouls weren’t typically allowed in the city and argument it took just to be allowed in was enough to add to an already bad mood. He counted himself lucky he had passed a raider nest on the way. Taking those poor bastards out had helped him work out some of the rage in his system.

It took some asking around before he could find who he was looking for but he was relieved when the detective was in.

“Hey Valentine.” Hancock greeted, and hiked his thumb over his shoulder. “You know, the sign makes it look like you’re runnin’ a whorehouse.”

“It says ‘Detective Agency’.” Ellie pointed out from where she was sorting files.

“Yeah but you know some folks can’t read.” Hancock chuckled, though there was no real humor to it. His back was too straight and he kept picking at the lapel of his coat.

Nick picked up on the fact there was something off, and reached in his pocket for the few caps he was carrying. “Ellie, you can go over and get yourself some noodles from Takahashi, then take the rest of the day off.”

The secretary looked up from her files and between the ghoul and synth, then put her work away. “You want me to bring you back anything when I come in tomorrow?”

“No, but thank you, Doll. Take care.”

“Take care of you.” She returned as she took the offered caps, grabbed her jacket, and left the men to themselves.

Nick waited for her heeled footsteps to fade, then gestured to the chair in front of his desk, taking a seat in his own. “So, tell me what happened.”

“It hasn’t happened yet.” Hancock huffed and fell into the seat, the legs of it squealling against the floor as his sudden weight knocked it back an inch. 

“I take it it’s pretty bad, if you’re coming to me.” The detective sighed, taking his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offering one to the ghoul.

Hancock started to take one, but his fingers shook and it fell to the floor. He didn’t bend to retrieve it, instead he just looked forlornly down at it and started to laugh. He took his hat off and scrubbed his hands over his face. Nick watched him, concerned and unsure what to say. There was a long moment of silence before the ghoul broke it.

“I’m losing my goddamn mind, Nicky.”

The silence resumed for a few seconds, then took Hancock’s hat from the desk to drop it back on the ghoul’s head. He pulled him up by the arm and took a step toward the door.

“Come on. Let’s get you drunk. You’ll feel better.” 

“No.” Hancock shrugged the synth off, sitting back down. “The less people see me, the better. You know ghouls aren’t supposed to be here and I don’t feel like having McDonough knowing I’m around.”

“Alright but you need you to relax and I’d rather you not do drugs in here.”

“No one’ll notice.” Hancock tried to reason, but Nick shot him a look and he knew he wasn’t going to sway the other’s decision there. 

After an hour and nearly five bottles of something that tasted a bit too much like sugar and gasoline, Hancock had told Nick of his recent mood swings and memory loss in detail. Once he started sharing he couldn’t bring himself to stop, too drunk to care about whether or not the synth would judge him. Every recent violent urge was bared. He even admitted to nearly taking the throat out of a raider with his teeth on his way to the city. 

“Did you?” Nick felt compelled to ask.

“No…” Hancock said solemnly. “I wanted to. I could’ve, but it wouldn’t have felt right. I think… Fuck I think I’m going feral.”

“So why come to me about it? If you know what’s going on then there’s not exactly a case for me to investigate.”

“I’m not here for a detective.” Hancock admitted. “I’m here for a friend… and a favor. You’re a good man. I trust you, Nicky.”

“What can I do?”

“I was hoping… I’d like you to stick by me for a while and put a bullet in me when my mind goes.” His voice wavered.

“Hancock that’s…” 

“I’m too scared to do it myself. Please. I don’t want to be a monster.” With that, the ghoul began to cry.

If Nick had a heart it would have dropped right out of him. This wasn’t the kind of thing he could just fix, so he wasn’t quite sure what to do. This wasn’t so much a missing person as a man losing himself. With how the other had asked him, though, he didn’t have it in him to deny the request. 

“Well I think Ellie knows enough that she can take over for me here for a while.”

Hancock looked up, confusion making the creases in his face deeper. Before he could ask, Nick continued. 

“You’re a mayor. You’ve got a town to run. We can’t stay here while you’ve got work to do.”

Hancock offered up a tired smile, then set his head down on the desk with a heavy sigh through what was left of his nose. “Thank you.”

It took a while for the synth to realize the other had fallen asleep in his seat. Luckily he had a rarely used bed in the other room. The ghoul was smaller in comparison and synths tended to be stronger than humans so it was fairly easy for Nick to heft the other man onto his shoulder and carry him to the bed. His hat had fallen of on the short trip, so the detective picked it up from the floor and put it back on his desk. 

Nick didn’t need to sleep. The bed was just for the occasional power down he needed to keep from running his circuits too hot. He could power down in a floor or a chair but the Institute had seen fit to give him enough sensors for discomfort to be an issue. He considered powering down for a few hours just to make sure he wouldn’t blow a fuse with all of the thoughts running through his head, but it didn’t feel right to leave his friend alone. He pulled a chair into the corner of the not-quite-bedroom and sat down.

The night was relatively quiet. An occasional distant gunshot would ring out or a dog would bark but that was all. It was calm and gave Nick a lot of time to ponder the request. Hancock could be harsh, but not a bad person. Nick didn’t want to have to kill him, but he saw why he had been chosen. If he had to pick a way to go he’d rather a friend put him down than some random drifter. He didn’t like it, but he understood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to Goodneighbor.

Hancock rolled off of the bed and onto the floor a little after dawn. He took a moment to look around at his surroundings, then up to Nick who was still in the chair in the corner.

“Did we fuck?” The ghoul asked, unsure of the end of the night’s events. He could remember the important conversation, but nothing after.

Nick sputtered and his internal fan was clearly audible for the few seconds it took him to straighten his hat and stand up. “No,” He said sternly. “We did not.”

Hancock chuckled, standing up and wavering slightly. “Whuf, what did you let me drink?”

“Two hundred year old nuka-cola.” Nick answered with a shrug. “Nobody else likes it so they give it to me.”

“That shit’s strong.” Hancock groaned. “Where’s my tricorn?”

“I’ll take your word for it. It doesn’t affect me.” Nick went back to the other room and plucked the hat off of his desk. “We better get you back to Goodneighbor before someone tries to take over.” Nick checked his gun and put an ammo box in his pocket. Anything else he needed he could get in the other town, but it was best to be prepared for travel. He quickly jotted a note to Ellie, tossed the hat to the other, then stepped into the alley.

Hancock caught the hat easily and put it on. He straightened out his overcoat, then tightened the knot on the flag he used as a sash. Sure, appearances weren’t much in the wasteland they called home, but he had a streak of vanity regardless. As soon as he followed Nick into the alley he took out an inhaler and took a hit of jet off it. Nick fixed him with a glared and Hancock lifted his hands in a defensive gesture.

“I’m not in your office anymore.” He pointed out. 

Nick couldn’t disagree with that. There was no time for an intervention anyway. They had to get out of Diamond City quickly without anyone noticing Hancock’s raw skin. They would probably just be peacefully escorted out given the detective’s good reputation. Still, it was better to just leave without making a scene.

They made it out with no violence, though the guard at the gate found it necessary to be rude.

“Where’s your nose, Ugly?” The guard asked with a wry laugh.

“Where’s your manners?” Nick shot back, prompting an amused snort from his friend.

The guard frowned and straightened up. “No ghouls allowed in the city, Valentine. You know that. Get that thing out of here.”

“We’re already on our way out. You didn’t think we just came here to admire the gate, did you?” Hancock gruffed, pushing past and out into the wasteland.

Nick followed his lead and they headed out along the cracked pavement. It was going to be a few hours worth of walking to Goodneighbor so it was fortunate they’d managed to get an early start. It was hours before they passed where Hancock had taken care of the raiders he’d mentioned during his drunken confession the night before. The ghoul grew visibly uncomfortable as they passed. Nick could see why. The bodies were torn up beyond recognition. 

The bloodshed must have drawn attention because almost before they could react, a feral ghoul rose up from where it had laid among the bodies after eating its fill. Nick was unlucky enough to be nearest to it, and therefore the one it took offense to. It took him by surprise but still didn’t even manage to touch him before Hancock put two rounds through its head.

Hancock lowered his gun and glared intensely down at the now-dead ghoul, his mouth a hard line. His silence was unnerving and said far more than words could. It didn’t take a detective to know what sort of gears were turning in his head.

“It’s not you, Hancock.” Nick assured him.

Hancock didn’t respond right away. Instead he knelt over the body, searching the pockets of torn clothing until he found a slim, duct tape wallet. He found a faded identification card inside.

“Mary Berlinicke,” He read aloud. “She used to be somebody.”

“She sure did.” Nick agreed, then frowned when the other man shoved the card into the pocket of his torn trenchcoat. “What are you doing?”

“When you go back to Diamond City you should put her in a file or something.” Hancock explained, waving his hand like he was swatting gnats. 

Nick chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation. “I suppose someone ought to remember her.” He agreed, and they continued on their way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's all sorts of ways to have a conversation.

When the synth and the ghoul reached sight of the gate to Goodneighbor Hancock hesitated. He took a step back, a rare absence of confidence clear on his face. 

“Something on your mind?” Nick asked, already knowing the answer would be ‘yes’.

“I can’t stay at the Old State House.” Hancock said bluntly.

“Of course you can.” Nick corrected. “It’s your home.” 

Hancock remained thoughtfully silent for a time and Nick knew better than to push. He could read several emotions cycling through the ghoul’s face.

“I want to see the rest of the Commonwealth.” Hancock decided. “We should just go; Explore and see what sort of trouble we can get into.”

“Goodneighbor needs you.” The synth reminded, prompting the other to release a heavy sigh. 

The Mayor took another minute to steel his nerves, then opened the gate. All traces of vulnerability were gone from Hancock as he marched into Goodneighbor. This was _his_ town. The people were _his_. 

“Welcome back, Mayor.” A ghoul woman greeted as they passed her, her raw voice just on the edge of flirtatious.

“Citizen.” He answered, matching her tone.

Nick had to fight an unexpected urge to roll his eyes. Even after being on the verge of panic, Hancock would always be Hancock. It was equal parts admirable and concerning that the shorter man could turn his mood, at least his projected mood, so quickly. All leaders had to be good liars, the synth supposed. 

The two headed straight to the Old State House, pausing only to wave at the gunstore. Fahrenheit was there browsing ammunition, but caught onto the fact she was being summoned and followed them in after excusing herself from the conversation she had been having with Kleo. The trio went upstairs quickly and Hancock dismissed the two ghouls watching the door.

“Take a break. Fahrenheit can kick both of your asses on one leg anyway.” He huffed, some of the strong and friendly facade breaking. 

“That’s an... interesting image.” Nick pointed out, hoping to lighten the mood.

The woman shot him a glare but Hancock snorted so the synth counted it a success.

“Cut the shit. What’s going on?” Fahrenheit asked, usually one to favor the most direct approach.

Hancock didn’t answer her right away and Nick took it as a cue to keep himself silent too. It was the ghoul’s news to share or hide as he saw fit. The only reason this was even his business was because Hancock had made it his business. Nick wondered briefly why hancock hadn’t asked Fahrenheit to kill him when the time came. She was his right hand, after all, and certainly capable.

Hancock quickly started setting up a chessboard. Some of the pieces were missing and had been replaced with small trinkets; A button took the plack of the white queen, a crooked screw was the black bishop, and several pawns were either rocks or chips of wood depending on the side they belonged to. 

Fahrenheit helped set the board and sat at the opposite side. She had been allowed the white, Nick noticed. He wondered if that was significant. He decided to stay out of their way and lean against the desk to watch from a distance. 

The woman predictably moved a pawn in the right place to free up movement for the button queen and one of the bishops. Automatically the computer in Nick’s brain had calculated all possible counters to it, as well as several turns ahead, in a matter of nanoseconds. If he was playing he could win in five moves, so he never played unless he was letting Ellie win. 

Hancock moved one of his knights, hopping it over his pawns and to the side of the board. An odd move for an odd man. Knights were the only piece that could go over others so that wasn’t an issue. Nick had just never seen someone use it as their first turn. Fahrenheit moved another pawn and Hancock moved his other knight in a mirror to the other. Eventually the two were practically dancing around each other. Fahrenheit put up a good offense, but Hancock was a master of staying just out of reach. The strangest bit though, which frustrated Nick to no end, was that Hancock kept leaving his king exposed and Fahrenheit never bothered to take it. 

They weren’t trying to win, Nick realized. This was how they spoke to one another. They were having a conversation. A conversation that ended when the ghoul stood and threw his own king across the room with a wordless shout. The little monarch bounced off of the wall and onto the floor before rolling a short distance and falling through a crack in the wood. There was a noise of surprise downstairs as the king must have landed on a guard’s head.

“You can’t be serious.” Fahrenheit growled, picking up one side of the board so the pieces slid off of it. “Everyone needs you. You can’t just leave for good.”

“They don’t need _me_ , just what I stand for.” Hancock countered, stepping away from the couch and toward the door. “Hold a new election. My people know what they want.”

Fahrenheit’s scowl deepened, but she didn’t protest any further. Nick thought the woman was a bit young to have worry lines already, but he kept all comments to himself as he prepared to follow Hancock out. He was surprised when the ghoul stopped after opening the door. Hancock looked back to Fahrenheit and grinned.

“I might come back. You better talk to Kleo before I do. Actually _talk._ ” He said with a wink, and then he slid down the spiral stair banister. He picked something up from the floor and pocketed it, then was out the door before Nick had even made it the whole way down.

Hancock spent the rest of the day visiting the various people in his town. He made sure they were all doing well and helped out if they weren’t. Nick helped too, of course, but he was less trusted. He tried not to let it get to him. He knew there were issues with the Institute and synths replacing people, so he understood the stigma.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rest before the roam.

The end of the day found them both at the Hotel Rexford. Hancock was set on leaving but Nick had managed to talk him into resting first. The ghoul flopped gracelessly onto the bare mattress and took a tin out of his pocket. It was dark but the detective didn’t miss how it rattled.

“Mentats aren’t food.”

“I know.” Hancock snorted, shaking a few out of the tin anyway. “I’ll eat something when I don’t feel like I’d cough it back up. Besides, mentats keep me smart.”

“You’re about to go to bed.” Nick pointed out.

“You think I want stupid dreams?” 

There was no reasoning with him so Nick sighed and turned toward the window. It was boarded up, but there were cracks he could see through. A light rain was coming down. He usually liked the rain but this looked like it was building up to a s They had come indoors just in time to miss it. He hoped it wasn’t turning into a radstorm. Radiation wouldn’t do much to hurt either of them but it always made the synth’s wires feel a bit fuzzy. He didn’t like that feeling. It always made him worry that he might just explode. 

Lightning was no better, of course, given Nick had quite a bit of metal in him. If anything, lightning was much worse for him than radiation. He was indoors for now, though. If any lightning hit, it would probably go for the Old State House since it was the tallest building in Goodneighbor. The synth frowned as he realized thoughts of the Old State House just had his head circling back to the conversational chess game the Mayor and his bodyguard had had prior. He turned away from the window.

“I have to ask…” Nick wondered aloud, knowing Hancock was far from sleep. “Why not just ask Fahrenheit to kill you? I know you’re closer to her than you are to me.”

“Wouldn’t be right.” Hancock answered, laying his hat on the corner of the bed and settling more comfortably on his back. He dug through a pocket before tossing a chess piece to Nick. “She wouldn’t do it anyway.”

The detective caught the piece and turned it over in his hands, easily recognizing it as the king the other had thrown. He set it down with a click on the end table. 

“You aren’t going to put her in charge of Goodneighbor.” Nick said softly. It was an observation, not a question.

“I know I took my spot as Mayor kind of forcefully but that was a unique situation. Elections are the right way. Of the People, for the People, you know?” Hancock explained, counting the cracks in the ceiling. He then subtracted the ones that weren’t visibly leaking. It amounted to fourteen and had he not been mildly stoned he might have been annoyed by it. He had also noticed thunder rolling in. “Is it five seconds to one mile, or one second to five miles? I can never remember.”

Nick chuckled at that and took a seat in the single chair in the room. He couldn’t remember either. He might have known once but the information was lost to him now. Clearly it wasn’t important enough to other people to be programmed into him, but now that he thought about it he wanted to know. He set an internal timer for a few hours, then powered down for the night.

In the morning the two checked on their supplies, the most important of which were ammo, food, a ridiculous amount of chems(Courtesy of Hancock), and a few cans of purified water. Nick didn’t need to drink and neither of them were bothered much by the rads the water in the commonwealth held, but it would still be nice to have something clean to drink.

They left the town early, around three in the morning, at Hancock’s insistence. The Watch, Kleo, and Daisy would still be up and about but he wanted to get out before the majority woke up. He couldn’t stand goodbyes, especially since this time he knew he wasn’t coming back. The door to the town closed behind them with a crushing finality as they left it, bringing morbid thoughts to the forefront of his mind. From now on, John was a dead ghoul walking.

Nick recognized a need for quiet in his friend and thought it best to take the lead for now, following a broken road through the Boston Commons. He had a map in his head but since they had no set destination he ignored it for now. He did pay special attention to where they were, however. Eventually there were signs of a nearby raider camp so he followed those. If the way Hancock’s hands twitched were any indication, the shorter man clearly wanted to shoot something.

It didn’t take long to mow down the small gang, and the duo made it through with minimal damages. Certainly not enough to waste a stimpak or duct tape on, though the synth did need to tighten the screw in his wrist that came loose. The original screw had fallen out a long time ago and he could never find another one that was the correct size, but he made due. His goal had been accomplished at least. Hancock was calmer now, and seemed more himself.

“This guy was hoarding psycho!” Hancock called while inspecting one of the men he’d managed to shoot right in the eye, noticeably cheered.

“I thought you just liked jet and mentats.” Nick couldn’t really condone the chem use, but he was glad that his friend had something to be excited about. “Wasn’t aware psycho was on your list of treats.”

“Not often but it’s good for a party.” Hancock shrugged, stuffing a few containers into his pockets.

“I didn’t know we were going to a party.” Nick joked, “Are we late?”

“Brother, we _are_ the party.”

Nick chuckled, and set to taking any food the raiders had. The dead didn’t need to eat and it was better to be overstocked than going hungry. He didn’t want them to be out of food when Hancock ended up having a serious case of drug-induced munchies.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Museums are infinitely more fun if your tourguide is a snarklord or just likes making shit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo I fuckin hate my job.

Wandering aimlessly through the Commonwealth turned out to be fun. The two even managed to get all the way to Salem without ever actually aiming to get there. 

The Museum of Witchcraft was just far too interesting for Hancock to ignore, so they ended up taking a guideless tour of the place. Nick gladly corrected all of the ghoul’s ridiculously embellished history, as well as added a few things that were facts but Hancock was fairly certain had to be bullshit. 

The synth also explained the plot of The Crucible as well, then how America treated communism in its time, and Hancock couldn’t help but notice a parallel. The witches and communists of the past became the synths of today. Personally, he didn’t see the issue with communism from how it sounded. Everyone working together for equality seemed great, but Nick explained it was a much better thing in theory than practice 

“Did you know brahmin used to only have one head and were called cows?” Nick decided to share, breaking away from the subject of both literal and figurative witch hunts.

“Bullshit,” Hancock returned. He knew Nick had memories from before the bombs fell, but some things were just too ridiculous to believe.

“Radstags too. Those had one head and four legs. They were called deer. Radiation changed a lot.” Nick continued. 

“Next you’ll tell me yao guai were fluffy.” Hancock scoffed.

Nick chuckled. “They were. Yao guai used to be bears.”

“Like a teddy bear?” Hancock asked incredulously as he stepped over a fallen tree. “Now I know you’re fuckin’ with me.”

“I’m serious, though bears weren’t quite as cute and cuddly as the stuffed versions are. Just as dangerous as a yao guai if you pissed ‘em off.” Nick clarified.

The fun ended abruptly when they found a sleeping deathclaw that was larger than it had any right to be on the upper floor. Hancock managed to wake it up by tripping over its tail by mistake. It turned out that the shaking of the building wasn’t ghosts as was previously assumed. Rather than waste ammo on something they knew they couldn’t make a dent on, the duo fled.

Once they were in the clear they stopped to catch Hancock’s breath, and Nick started to laugh.

“You havin a stroke, old man?” Hancock asked jokingly, which just prompted the other to laugh harder. 

It turned out to be contagious, and soon Hancock had doubled over slightly, hands on his knees. Relief at survival and the stupidity of the fact he would just die another day, another way, had the ghoul laughing and crying all at once until he was nearly hoarse. 

Nick’s smile was crooked, Hancock noticed. He wondered if the asymmetry was due to a malfunction or if it was just how Nick was built. Maybe he smiled that way because it was how the original Nick did and muscle memory had carried over along with all of the mental history. That probably wasn’t how muscle memory actually worked, given there were no actual muscles in the detective’s body, but Hancock could admit he didn’t know much about the transition from biology to robotics.

The ghoul’s mind wandered to the rest of his friend’s face. From first glance he appeared dirty, but a closer look made it clear he was just weathered. Aging worked that way, Hancock supposed. The tears in the synthetic skin also held his attention and he found himself pondering if Nick could feel them. Did they hurt? How much could Nick feel? 

Nick had just as much emotional range as any other person but Hancock had no idea if his skin was just as capable. Logically, he knew Nick had to have some sense of touch because he responded to it and had enough control of his hands to write and light cigarettes. Pressure plates would be enough for that much, but Nick also reacted to injury. How much of it was actual pain and how much was just offense to being damaged remained a mystery. If he _could_ feel pain, though, it stood to reason he could feel other things. Hancock found himself struck with the urge to find out how the other would react to being kissed.

“Something on my face?” Nick asked suddenly, alerting the other to the fact he had been staring without realizing. “Damn, I don’t have a new rip, do I?”

“No, you’re still pretty.” Hancock answered quickly, then decided to spend the next few microseconds mentally kicking his own ass. He’d been sober too long. The lack of mentats was making him stupid. It was his own damn fault for getting dependant, he supposed.

Luckily, the synth took it as a joke, rather than the actual flirtation that it was. He laughed harder and it took what little self control Hancock had not to make his previous thought process into a very real experiment. It wasn’t worth the risk of making things awkward for however long he had left.

Once they found shelter in the back of an old semi, Hancock found himself with too much time to think and not enough drugs for any good ideas.

It was probably poor judgement to start flirting at a man more than seventy years older, Hancock figured. The fact that Nick had dragged him home to his parents more than once as a teenager probably didn’t help matters. To be fair, Nick didn’t age and the ghoul was nearing his fifties, not that it showed on his scarred face. 

There were just too many reasons Hancock knew he shouldn’t try; Nick probably still saw him as a kid. Nick was probably straight or just not sexually inclined at all. Hancock was lonely and knew he was probably only interested because Nick was his friend and the line between friendly and physical relationships had always been a dotted line, not solid for him. He was dying soon and just trying to get closer to the guy he already felt emotionally closest to. It was selfish to try anything, so Hancock took note of what he was feeling, mentally labeled it ‘temporary, probably’, and hoped it would pass.

More chems went on the ghoul’s mental grocery list. His mind was getting too loud. He needed to shut it up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock gets a little sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Withdrawals suck ass.

Usually, Hancock kept an arsenal of chems in the various pockets of his coat. Given his travel companion’s dislike of anything harder than alcohol and nicotine he had opted to try to cut down and ration what he had. Calculations were not his strong suit, however, and he ran out before he thought he would. After a third day with no drugs and a skull crushing migraine, Hancock decided to recruit Nick to track down a trade route. He normally could have done it himself but he couldn’t focus on anything past the brim of his hat for more than a few minutes at a time.

“You need to lay down.” The Detective told him after catching the ghoul wobble on his feet a bit.

“And let you have all the fun?”

“It’s not fun watching you do the Shitfaced Shuffle because you’re sober for once. There’s a town about…” There was a brief, quiet whir as Nick consulted his literal mental map and ran a scale calculation. “Little less than half a mile east. We’ll find a clear house put you up in a real bed. Then I can track down Trashcan Carla in half the time and bring you back some addictol.”

“I’m not an addict--” The ghoul protested, scrubbing his sleeve over his eyes which had begun to itch.

“Bullshit.”

“--I’m a junkie. Addictol’s twice as hangover-inducing as daytripper anyway and it doesn’t even do anything fun.”

“Detox is a bitch.” Nick stated, far too cheerfully in the other’s opinion.

“If you bring me addictol I’ll have every right to piss in your hat.” Hancock growled under his breath, obviously not accounting for the synth’s hearing being better than his own.

Nick paused to turn and glare at the other. A beat of silence passed before the synth spoke.

“...That’s gross, John.”

The two began to head east, but the ghoul didn’t even make it to a quarter of a mile before his legs gave out under him. He hit the ground with a thud, unconscious. Nick hadn’t been expecting that at all, but rather than panic he scooped up his fallen friend and carried him the rest of the way. The ghoul wasn’t outwardly hurt, that Nick could tell, but the fainting spell definitely had him reasonably concerned.

Luck was on their side at least, aside from the ghoul’s sudden lack of consciousness. The first house was completely clear and may have even been pleasant aside from a few skeletons. The bed was on a broken frame, a bit crooked, but clean enough. Nick put the other down as gently as he could, though it was a challenge given his own stiff joints. The Institute clearly hadn’t mastered ball-and-sockets when he was built, but he made do.

Nick couldn’t feel temperature very well, but just in case he went ahead and took the frock coat off of the ghoul. The thick, red wool would do no favors for Hancock if he had a fever. The blue jacket also came off, though after a thought Nick left him in his shirt. The hat and boots were the next to go, and the detective had a brief moment of panic when he noticed the missing toe, but a lack of blood and a quick check of the boot proved that the loss wasn’t new.

John looked small without the layers, Nick noticed, even with the ruffles. He also seemed too still and too quiet for a while, but he was breathing so Nick let him be to search the rest of the house. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for, but anything to help would be welcome. He only found a box of Fancy Lads before a thud and a crash caught his attention.

The sound had come from the room in which he had just left Hancock, but he kept a hand on his gun as he went back to investigate. 

In the few minutes that Nick was gone, Hancock had gotten up and knocked over the bedside table. He had staggered halfway to the closet, and doubled over to retch just as the synth came back into the room. There was a bucket in the closet he had no doubt been trying to get to, but hadn’t quite made it in time. The floor was ruined anyway, but the smell wasn’t helping anything.

“I suppose it’s good there’s a couch, too.” Nick pointed out.

Hancock shrugged, and brought up more of everything he had eaten that day. 

“We can keep the bucket close to the couch.” Nick added, to which Hancock showed him his favorite finger.

The ghoul slept willingly after his stomach gave up on trying to evacuate despite being already emptied. This gave Nick time to check the rest of the neighborhood for supplies. He had to kill a few bloatflies and a very confused bloodbug, but was rewarded for his efforts when he found a drawer with a few chems in it. He left the harder things like psycho and buffout alone, but both of the ghoul’s favorites were present. He’d normally hate to be an enabler but after watching what John went through without, he could understand a little better.

Hancock woke either very late at night or very early in the morning. He couldn’t tell which, but it was dark out. That suited him just fine. A tin of mentats and cannister of jet rested on the bedside table, which was a pleasant little surprise. He pocketed the jet but took a pill from the tin, then after a thought he broke the pill in half with his knife. Better to ration it rather than run out again. Once it kicked in the world seemed a little clearer and his head hurt a little less.

Hancock was no stranger to waking at odd hours, though he’d gotten used to not waking up alone. Usually Nick would be in sight, reading a book or running maintenance on himself while the ghoul slept. Curious, he put his hat and boots on, and went on a search for the detective.

He found Nick just across the road. He was sitting on the rusted hood of a car and scowling up at the sky. He looked vaguely disappointed, so Hancock didn’t speak just yet. He had learned quickly that if Nick wanted to speak his mind that he would do so without having to be asked. Instead he just climbed up on the hood and sat next to the other, not touching but close enough the warmth from the detective could be felt.   
“The light from my eyes has to bounce off something and come back for me to see it. I can see things nearby normally. The sky is too far for that but I… Nick remembers.” The synth explained. “I know I never really had them but I miss stars. I miss a lot of things I never had; Coffee for example. The sky is still here though. Without the city lights I bet people can see even more of space now. All I get is a damn error screen.”

“Yeah, space is pretty.” Hancock told him, lying back. 

There was a comfortable silence for a while after that as the ghoul stared up at the sky and the synth tried to do the same, but eventually gave up on it. The flashing red ‘ERROR’ would give him a phantom headache if he left it for too long. He ended up watching the ghoul for lack of anything else interesting to look at.

Hancock seemed to have completely zoned out, his black eyes focused intently on the stars like he was trying to make sense of them. Perhaps he was. Nick briefly wondered if Hancock was trying to find a way to describe them to him. He had memories of stars and already knew, but would still have appreciated the ghoul’s effort if that was what he was thinking so hard about. There was a solid fifteen minutes before Hancock decided to break the silence.

“I’d fuck space.” He deadpanned, the expression on his face far too serious for his words.

Nick couldn’t help the surprised guffaw that left him and prompted the other man to laugh too. They stayed a long moment just laughing like madmen before Nick managed to compose himself. Hancock wasn’t nearly done, though, curled on his side with giggly aftershocks bringing tears to his eyes. When he finally spread out on his back again, grin on his scarred face, the synth noticed a light in his eyes he hadn’t seen before. Unshed tears had made John’s eyes more reflective than they already were, and Nick could see the stars clearly in them.

“Ah, hell.” Nick blurted suddenly.

“What?”

“Loose wire.” Nick answered quickly, and decided he probably wasn’t wrong if he couldn’t keep what was supposed to be an internal comment inside his head. “Don’t worry about it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick has one of many serious thinking sessions.

Aside from a very slight improvement with the drugs, Hancock didn’t really get better. The withdrawals hadn’t caused the sickness, only hastened what was bound to happen anyway. In an altered state of mind the ghoul could bear it better, but still needed more rest than he previously had. Keeping food down became progressively harder and the migraines kept getting worse.

There were good days and bad. They kept to known trade routes and settlements so Hancock could try to keep enough chems in his system that he didn’t have to feel it and if he needed help it wouldn’t take long for Nick to make a run for a doctor. Whether or not the nearest doctor would help a ghoul or even listen to a synth was another matter. Turns out a post-war wasteland taught people nothing of tolerance, just shifted who they were intolerant of. 

Several times, when Hancock was unable to stand without wavering, the synth would suggest they go back to Goodneighbor to be near those they knew would help. Hancock always refused. He didn’t want the people he considered his own to see him when he turned. Nick wondered, not for the first time, why the ghoul was okay with Nick watching him go feral. Was he special or was it just because John felt the metal and plastic would make it easier for Nick to handle killing a friend? John was the least prejudiced person Nick knew, but sometimes even the best people would still make assumptions. Then again, he could just as easily be projecting his insecurities. No true saints, no matter how hard some people tried. 

True emotion versus programmed emotion was a tricky thing, and Nick wasn’t even sure if he could tell the difference. His emotions felt real to him, but given the obvious robotics he had nothing to gauge them with. Sure, he had memories of real emotions from a dead man, but emotions faded over time so that was hardly a reliable comparison. Lately he wasn’t sure if what he’d been feeling was some sort of malfunction, or if Hancock had just unwittingly sparked something Nick wasn’t aware he was even capable of. Just to check, he decided to consult the original Nick for the only fair comparison he could think of.

systems_check:cognitive》memory》jen_file

Loading…

[chronolog.jen]  
[emotion.jen]  
[[physical.jen]ERROR]

emotion.jen》select_all》analyze

Loading…

Interrupted

Retry? [Y/N]  
N

Nick came out of diagnostics just in time to catch Hancock singing the tail end of a song. The ghoul was seated on the floor next to a small table with a working radio on it. He was facing away from Nick and swaying to the music. His voice was as rough as ever, but still pleasant. For once, he looked at completely at peace. His shoulders had relaxed, and his back was straighter, no longer weighed down by too many responsibilities. Nick didn’t even have to see his face to know that his friend was happy. Today was one of the good days. _God, what a thing to lose._

“You stare any harder and I’m gonna have a new scar.” Hancock teased as the song ended and the host began awkwardly spouting vague news.

“I didn’t know you could sing.” 

“Well Travis keeps playin’ the same shit. Not hard to learn the words.”

“I meant you have a nice voice, smartass.” Nick clarified as the intro to another song started.

“You should have heard me before my throat got burned all to hell.” Hancock joked.

“I’m sure it was an improvement, if anything.” Nick snarked right back, not really caring that his very literal introspection had been postponed by the sudden lack of focus. A brief look to the window told him it was nearing dusk, and he sighed. He’d always lost track of time in diagnostics mode. There went another wasted day. “Hope you kept yourself entertained while I was out of it.”

“Bored as shit, actually.” Hancock reported, though he was grinning. He stepped closer to the synth and grabbed both hands, pulling him up from the chair. “Dance with me, Nicky!”

“You mixed daytripper and jet, didn’t you?” The detective accused lightheartedly, but let himself be led in the clumsiest mock-waltz the commonwealth had ever seen. Partly because Hancock was too short to lead a taller man very well, partially because Nick’s joints weren’t built with dancing in mind, but mostly because Butcher Pete was a song no one had any business trying to waltz to.

Butcher Pete made way, mercifully, to Easy Living. Hancock, having tired himself out from the song prior, was content just to sway for a while. About halfway through the song, Hancock began to cry, his high obviously wearing out.

“Headache starting up again?” Nick asked, dully feeling the other nod against his chest. There was more to it, he knew, but John tended to hide what hurt him if he could and Nick understood well enough to give him an easy out if he didn’t want to talk about it. He rubbing the other’s back briskly through his coat. “Let's get you to bed then.”

“M’not a kid anymore.” John protested weakly, but let himself be lead.

“I know that. I’m just helping.” Nick reassured.

Hancock was out like a light as soon as he hit the mattress, though he’d managed to get an iron grip on Nick’s coat. The detective shrugged it off and adjusted it to function as a blanket. John had been complaining of cold more and more often. Nick decided to leave old memory files alone. He could figure this out himself without rooting through a dead man’s life more than he already had.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody wants to be disturbed while sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished this chapter at a new years party instead of actually socializing with people because I'm a bitch hermit.

One day, about two months into their adventure, Hancock just decided to lay down on the ground in the sun. He’d been getting colder easier as of late, and it wasn’t doing him any favors with the pains he’d been developing. The sun-warmed ground, however, was warmer than most of the beds he’d been in, even beds with company. He couldn’t see any real reason not to, once he had the idea. 

After an hour or two a feral wandered by and joined him, flopping facedown in the warm dirt. There was a gaping hole in what he could see of her face, yellowed teeth displayed not-so-proudly past her cheek. John considered his knife, but the less cognitive ghoul wasn’t paying him any mind and was showing none of the usual signs of aggression. She was just enjoying the sun, same as he was. He wondered if she had the same pains he did; If the warmth was helping her feel better too. He’d offer her chems if he thought she’d understand him, but unexpected sound would probably just piss her off. Too much noise was starting to piss him off lately.

Nick was reading in the shack they’d picked to hang out in for the time being. He kept an eye out in the window since John decided to take a literal dirt nap. He’d gone out once to make sure his friend hadn’t passed out but Hancock was on the ground of his own accord so Nick left him to it. He hadn’t expected the second ghoul, the next time he checked out the busted window. Feral, if the way it was laying prone was any indication.

John caught his eye, minutely shook his head, and silently mouthed ‘let her be’. Nick frowned, but was extra careful to be as quiet as he could. No reason to waste bullets on the feral if the feral didn’t have a reason to attack. A truce was a truce.

Eventually, the feral ghoul got up and wandered off when the weather turned cloudy. She probably wanted to find somewhere else warm, and John wished her luck. Experimentally, he spoke in the quietest voice he could manage.

“See you later, Hatchetface.”

The feral did stop for a moment, turning back and looking more past Hancock than truly at him. There was a brief moment where she seemed to be considering, then she gurgled and went on her way. Hancock took it as permission to get up and go back into the shack.

Nick was waiting for him, an odd grin on his face. 

“What?” John asked.

“Your new girlfriend’s pretty.” Nick replied dryly.

Hancock snorted, then grew serious. “She was calm as long as I was… I think she thought I was already like her.”

“If she can still think, maybe something can be done for her.” Nick suggested, and the unsaid parallel was still heard; _Maybe something can be done for you._

“She’s not a damn science experiment. Just because I didn’t have to kill her doesn’t mean she should be used for solution tests or whatever else.” John countered, only noticing after that he had raised his voice. He hadn’t shouted, but he was angry, which he hadn’t expected. _Part of the sickness,_ he told himself, and took a breath before going to shoot up and lie down.

Nick seemed to understand and didn’t push the subject. Instead, he returned his attention to his book. It was an old mystery novel with half the pages missing. Despite the lost clues he had already figured out the ending, predictable as usual, but the way the words were put together was still pleasant. He wasn’t paying attention to it anymore, though. He had something more important to figure out now. 

Feral ghouls were just ghouls that had lost their minds, usually from too much radiation that their brain rotted. There were a few things Nick had noticed that were true for most of the encounters with ferals that he had had in person. 

Firstly, ferals tended to group together. Nick figured this was because they used to be human, and humans have always been primarily social creatures. With the conscious mind gone, all that was left to fall back on was instinct. 

Second, they really only got aggressive if approached or if there was noise. Their visitor had somewhat proved this by not actively looking for trouble. She had to have known Nick was around. Sure, he had been quiet, but he hadn’t really hidden either. The house they were borrowing was missing a good chunk of wall.

Then there was John; Not yet feral but exhibiting many symptoms. He’d been more prone to migraines, more sensitive to sounds, and his stomach wouldn’t stop acting up. He would seek warmth wherever he could, claiming it relieved some of the pain when Med-X wasn’t enough. Nick had asked once what the pain was like and it took the ghoul a while to word the feeling; Like he had barbed wire under his skin. 

John had also been more likely to lash out, though Nick wasn’t sure if that was due to mental reasons or if it was just in response to everything else. Who wouldn’t be angered by constant pain and nausea?

After some thought, Nick didn’t think they were monsters anymore. They were just very sick people that didn’t want to be disturbed. It was a better way to think about the situation. Sickness could be cured. Nick would find a way. Between a synth and a ghoul, they had all the time in the world to figure it out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick has some repairs to do.

They were squatting in what had been a raider nest until they cleared it out. Only a three thugs and a broken turret wasn’t much to get rid of, though there was a complication when Nick received a crowbar right to the temple, causing the light in his right eye to go out. His aim suffered for it, as his depth perception had gone. The fight was over now and the place was actually kind of nice once they moved the bodies.

Nick seated himself on an overturned crate but Hancock felt the need to walk around. He’d taken a hit of jet just before the fight and he had to work out some of the lingering jitters.

Hancock had seen a lot of freaky things in his life, both via hallucinations and just the general weirdness of the wasteland he called home. None of it even came close to the visceral, disturbed feeling that creeped up his spine as he witnessed Nick casually taking his own eye out.

“Christ, put it back!” 

“I have to fix it first. Half my vision’s gone. I can’t shoot like that.” Nick huffed, taking a small screwdriver out of one of his pockets.

The eye wasn’t spherical at all, which made it a little better in Hancock’s opinion; He wasn’t too proud to admit that he may have fainted if Nick had taken out an actual _eyeball._ Instead it looked more like a small cross between a flashlight and telescope. The large end had the lens and yellow iris, currently unlit. At the smaller end was something that looked like it probably fed into a port inside Nick’s head. There was also a short yellow wire sticking out of the side that looked like it went to another, smaller port.

“Please put your eye back inside your face.” John reiterated, “It’s freaking me the fuck out.”

“Freakier than your skin falling off?” Nick countered as he unscrewed the tip of the part. “Damn bulb’s shattered…” He added, mostly to himself.

“Most of it grew back and I was stoned off my ass anyway.” John protested, “Only really upsetting shit was when my nose went… I was sober when that little fucker popped off and it was a bad da-Ew, don’t make me hold it.”

Nick had handed the optic to the ghoul mid sentence to free his hand so he could break apart the front of a radio. A century in the body he had had taught him what he could use to repair himself with. Most radios lit up when they were on, due to a small light bulb almost the same size as the one in his eye; Just a tiny bit smaller, but filling the gaps with a little bit of tin foil always got it to connect. A lot of him was made of other types of machinery by now. Sure, it would have been easier to scavenge off of dead gen2 synths, but that felt a bit too Frankensteinian for the detective’s comfort.

“I don't want to lose it.” Nick chuckled, “It’s not like it’s a human eye.”

“It’s _your_ eye.” John muttered, holding the eye carefully but also as far away from himself as his arms would allow. “You’re human enough.”

Nick didn’t verbally respond to that, but held out his left hand to take the eye back once he got the light out of the radio. He used it to replace the broken bulb and screwed the lens back on. John was then treated to the very strange image of the synth holding his eyelid open and then shoving the whole thing in until it clicked. It remained unlit.

“You probably won't like this next bit.” Nick warned.

“Oh Jesus what.”

“Could you reach into the side of my face?”

“No. Fuck you.”

“There should be a hole with a yellow ring around it just under my brain. I can’t see to plug the wire into it. Ellie usually helps.”

“I hate you… Fine.” John conceded.

“Take the coat off first.” Nick said quickly.

“Why?” The ghoul asked, but did as he was told.

“I don’t think static would be good for me that close to my brain.” Nick explained.

“Is static good for you in other places?” John joked, immediately hating himself.

“Stop stalling.”

Nick turned his head to allow John to see into the torn pseudo-skin. He had to very gingerly pull some of it out of the way before finding the little ring of yellow he was looking for. He hooked his finger around the wire and guided it to the port, working slowly in fear of messing up. It clicked into place easily and he withdrew his fingers quickly.

“There you are.” Nick said softly, smiling as both of his eyes were lit now.

John was now painfully aware of the awkward position he was in, practically in Nick’s lap so he could help with repairs. Nick didn’t seem to notice, or if he did he was being a gentleman about the situation. Unwarranted, John’s mind went back to the brief moment when he wondered what Nick would react if he were kissed. Honestly, what right did grey plastic lips have to look so damn inviting so suddenly? He wondered again and then his impulse won out as he moved just a little closer.

Nick didn’t have time to react at all before the other pulled away, shame clear as day on his face.

“John-” Nick began, concerned, but was cut off quickly.

“Fuck, sorry. I just…” The ghoul trailed off.

“Is this a physical thing?” Nick asked. 

They had been practically the only friendly company of one another since setting out and Nick understood that Hancock was the sort of person that needed intimacy. Hancock knew that Nick understood this; Nick understood everything. It would have been so easy for John to say yes, it was a physical thing, and avoid all awkwardness but instead he just didn’t answer.

Nick frowned, then sighed. “I don’t have a penis.”

“Neither do I.” John said, then shook his head. “I can’t fucking do this.”

Hancock stood and then left the detective’s sight. Nick, now alone, put his head in his hands and wondered how the hell he was supposed to put a bullet in the ghoul’s brain after this.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much needed conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear i tried to make this slow burn but my dumb ass just cant get pacing for anything right.

Hancock was missing. 

Nick figured the ghoul probably just needed some space and so he left him alone, but after a few hours he checked the area and his friend had left entirely. It was fairly clear Hancock wasn’t coming back on his own. Another quick check of the ground provided boot-prints to follow at least until dirt gave way to concrete. 

Nick was unsure if he should track Hancock down. He had made a promise, yes, but Hancock had left of his own accord. Maybe it was better to go their separate ways now and avoid the inevitable heartache if they stayed together.   
No… At the very least they needed to talk about the kiss. There were a few things that needed clearing up, at least for the detective. He needed to know for sure what it meant to John. He could look for clues all damn day but even an educated guess was still a guess. With something as sensitive as feelings there was no replacement for clear and open communication. The blunt kind. No room for bullshit. After that was done, then he would let John decide whether to continue travelling together until Nick had to put him down, or split up for good.

Mind made up, Nick knew it would be easier to find John if he called in his Specialist. He pulled a dog whistle from an inside pocket, and ran his fan as fast as it would spin to get air through the tool. A distant howl rose, too far for a human ear but clear to the synth. 

Dogmeat was on his way.

 

It took just under half an hour for the german shepherd to get to the detective. Dogmeat didn’t really need anything to scent-track from; He knew Hancock well enough to know already. Still, Nick let the dog get a good sniff out of the red coat that had been left behind.

Dogmeat was happy to help and trotted along the cracked road in the direction of Sanctuary. It wasn’t too far of a walk, but Nick was surprised that he and John had made it so far from Goodneighbor.

Nick was relieved when he saw the familiar tricorn in the ditch under the bridge. Hancock was standing oddly still, staring up at greyed sky with a blank expression. A light rain had begun to fall, the water accentuating the deep grooves in his raw skin. He didn’t notice the synth, despite the fact he was in plain sight above him on the weathered bridge.

“What are you doing out here?” Nick called down to him.

Hancock turned toward him, face still blank. Nick would have assumed he had taken a bit too much of mixed drugs if not for the low growl that rose in Dogmeat’s chest. 

“Hancock?” Nick called again, putting a hand to the pistol he kept tucked into his belt.

The ghoul swayed on his feet, baring his teeth in a snarl of his own. Dogmeat grew more tense. Nick took out his gun.

“Don’t make me do this, John.” The synth said. He would have even begged if he thought it would make a difference. “Not yet. Not today. Not until you talk to me.” 

Hancock didn't listen at first, lunging toward the bridge. Nick shifted his aim, firing a warning shot near the ghoul’s feet. It caused Hancock to flinch harshly, and shuffle back. He tripped and fell flat on his back into the mud, losing his hat in the tumble. There he stayed for a moment, still dazed but no longer aggressive. Nick waited it out quietly, his pistol still raised and his free hand on the scruff of Dogmeat’s neck.

Finally, Hancock blinked. His brow furrowed as he seemed to wake up. He then groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and sat up to double over in obvious pain. Nick relaxed, but waited for Dogmeat to do the same before he put the weapon away.

“Are you still with me?” Nick asked.

“Yeah,” Hancock answered after a moment. “I’m still with you. Fuck… Did you see the brand on the brahmin that stamped my head?”

Nick winced out of sympathy, but it was short-lived as he climbed down from the bridge to help the other stand. He handed over the red coat, having carried it over his shoulder on the way. John didn’t put it on. His shirt was soiled and wet and the coat was damp, so there was no point in redressing. Still, it was a comfort to John to have the familiar wool back.

“Good thing I found you before you got to the settlement here. A ghoul that out of it… They’d think you were fer-”

“Well they’d be right wouldn’t they? I’m halfway fuckin’ there.” John snapped, interrupting Nick. “Quit wastin’ bullets.” He added as an afterthought when he noticed the streak of displaced earth. “You’re supposed to aim for my head. I know you’re a better shot than that.”

“You weren’t that far gone yet.” Nick countered.

“You can’t have _known_ that! Do you _want_ me to hurt somebody?”

Nick sighed and shook his head. He’d rather just find another way entirely. There were no easy solutions, though, not in this world. There was another subject that needed addressed anyway.

“So…” Nick began awkwardly. “What was that kiss about?”

John visibly tensed. “We’re doing this _now?_ ”

Nick raised an expectant, plastic brow. John huffed.

“I wanted to know if you’d feel it… and…” John trailed off.

Nick gave him a moment to continue on his own, but John didn’t elaborate.

“And?” Nick prompted.

John took a deep breath, gesturing vaguely at nothing. 

“I could feel it. Not that there was much to it, you ran away from me half a second later.” Nick decided if he wanted John to talk to him about this, then Nick had to open up first. “Look, if you just wanted sex that’s fine. I don’t have the required parts for some things but we could figure it out. I think I’d prefer something a little deeper than just that, though.”

“It wasn’t about sex.” John admitted. “I mean I’m all for sex but there’s way more to it. You’re my friend and I know I’ve already asked too much of you. I don’t want shit getting awkward.”

“Why me? I’m an old synth,” Nick pointed out, not upset but certainly growing self-conscious. “A machine.”

“You’re not a damn machine to me, Nick.” John said softly, then a growl rose in his voice. “If you think I kissed you because I think of you as some _toy_ -”

“That's not what I think.” Nick was quick to cut that train of thought off. “I just… Are you sure that I’m what you want?” 

John finally met his eye for the first time during this conversation, something serious but unsaid tensing visibly in his jaw. After a beat he nodded once.

“I’ve had a thing for you since before the chems and it was just admiration and hormones when it started out but then you became my friend and I let go of it for a while. Travelling with you just stirred it all up again, I guess.” John explained, then let out a hollow chuckle. “I’m getting greedy… You don’t want a dead man.”

“You’re not dead yet.” Nick pulled the other into an embrace, setting his chin on John’s head. He could feel John shivering, though he couldn’t tell whether it was from nerves or wet clothes. “Come on. Let’s get out of the rain before I rust.”

John snorted.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short. I'm tired.

They weren’t far from the Red Rocket station, but it was getting dark fast and the rain was picking up. Nick took the lead and ten minutes later they had come to what used to be a popular gas station. They took shelter out of the rain and Nick hung up his hat and coat.

Hancock did the same and then stripped out of the rest of his dirty, wet clothes. He left his pants on for modesty’s sake, but shoes and shirt were lost at the door.

Nate had started to make a home here, but left it in favor of Sanctuary. There were still pieces necessary for a living space, a bed being one, which the ghoul was quick to take advantage of. He was physically exhausted, emotionally raw, mentally drained. He was also cold as all hell. It wasn’t the greatest combination but Hancock had had worse days. A bed and blanket was inviting him and he had no desire to miss that party.

“You know,” Nick began, interrupting Hancock’s half-assed attempt at going to sleep. “There might be another way we aren’t seeing.”

“Another way to what?” Hancock asked, drowsiness slurring his words.

“I don’t want to kill you.”

Hancock sighed. He didn’t want to die but he didn’t want to hurt anyone when his mind was gone. He didn’t want to be a monster and the best way to prevent that was to put him down before he could do any damage. He was afraid to die, but he’d seen what ferals do; Attacking anything that made noise, killing people, _eating_ people. He couldn’t become one of those things, but it was happening anyway.

Hancock considered saying; ‘There’s no cure. Somebody would have found it by now. Plenty of ferals had people that cared about them too.’ Instead, he said; “I know.”

“Maybe Mama Murphy will know something…” Nick continued.

“You know you have to drug her to get any clear answers.” Hancock sighed. “She’s old. Chems are gonna kill her faster, she don’t need any more.”

“Odd, coming from you.” Said Nick, “Aren’t you usually peddling half of your stash to anyone who’ll take it?”

“I give them to those who look like they need it. Not people who’ll get sick off it.” John explained, growing irritated. “You’re not usually one to consider drugs as a solution.”

Nick looked to the floor, tracing an old paint spill on the concrete. He sighed heavily. “I don’t know what else can be done. I don’t want you to die and I don’t want you to turn. I’d take any other option at this point. People need you.”

 _"Fuck the People.”_ The ghoul snarled, catching them both off guard.

John was off the bed in an instant. Nick took a step back instinctively, expecting some sort of attack. That’s not where John was headed though, instead turning to go outside and retch. Nick followed him out and his concern only grew. The detective didn’t remember John eating or drinking anything red. Nick couldn’t ask either, as as soon as John’s stomach was empty he fell unconscious. 

Nick thanked the rain for washing away the mess as he picked the other up. It probably wasn’t the wisest thing to carry a steadily declining ghoul to a town in the rain, but Hancock needed real help. Nick knew he couldn’t do it alone. Dogmeat stayed with them, loyal as ever.

 

Preston had to wait to patrol until the rain calmed down. It had kicked up to a real storm during the night, but duties had to be done. Almost as soon as he left the main building, a bark got his attention.

“Dogmeat? Hey buddy, where’ve you been?”

The dog whined and tugged his sleeve when Preston reached out to pat him. Wasting no time, the dog ran off again. Sensing urgency, Preston ran after him, one hand holding his hat against the wind.

Dogmeat ignored real paths, cutting a straight line through brambles and tall grass. Preston had to struggle to keep up, and he wasn’t too proud to admit he had tripped twice. Thankfully nothing hostile was in their way.

What he found was Nick Valentine, twitching and making an odd gurgling noise. His hat and coat were missing. With him was an unconscious ghoul, wearing only pants, but not even shoes. Preston swore under his breath, and moved his gun to his back so he could try to drag both of them. The ghoul was light, but Nick was much heavier than he looked, even considering the metal. Clearly, he was waterlogged.

“Shit…” Preston sighed, and whistled for Dogmeat. “Go find Carla, okay boy?”

Dogmeat barked and sprinted off again. Preston turned back to trying to drag both, but Nick shoved his hand toward the ghoul. He seemed unable to get any real words out, but the gesture was clear.

“Okay Valentine.” Preston conceded, lifting the limp ghoul. “I’ll come back for you.”

Nick nodded, a jerky action at best that took way too much effort, and let himself fall into emergency shut down when John and Preston had left his sight.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I was gonna wait to post this but after the last cliffhanger I figured I should show a little mercy.

Preston left the ghoul in one of the unoccupied beds in Sanctuary, in the house he himself used. Clearly they were important if Nick had felt the need to risk such severe water-damage. 

The ghoul was familiar, but Preston couldn’t place them. He felt a bit bad about that; It wasn’t that he thought all ghouls looked alike. He just probably hadn’t met this one long enough for their face to really stick. Maybe a settler he’d helped?

The Minuteman couldn’t dwell on it. He had to get back to Nick before something else bad happened. Dogmeat, Carla, and her pack brahmin met Preston on the way back.

Carla was openly annoyed and passive aggressive the whole way, but she helped Preston load the waterlogged synth onto the brahmin. She was more concerned than she let on though, as she refused when Preston offered to pay her.

Nick was silent and motionless. His eyes had gone out. He looked dead, but Preston hoped that wasn’t the case. He liked the detective and no good person deserved to die alone in the woods. Hopefully all the water had just shut him down, not killed him.

 

Nick wasn’t sure how long he had been powered down, but he ‘woke up’ on a table. He was stripped, the skin of his torso open and stuffed with towels, rags, and sheets wherever they would fit into him. It was a weird thing, seeing your own body like that. If not for already being very aware what he was he might have been disturbed, but Nick was only mildly irritated by it. How did he get here?

Oh. 

Right.

Too much rain and no raincoat. 

_John._

Nick shot up, difficult with all the cloth in his system. Some loose string had definitely caught in a hip joint but he couldn’t care about that now. He pulled the intruding fabric out, noting that a lot of it was damn but not really caring, and pushed himself off of the table.

He was in the living room of a dilapidated house. Scrap metal and vehicle parts littered the place. A dead synth sat in the corner, opened up in front just like Nick was, but missing a few vital parts. Confusion and fear and worry all rattled around in Nick’s brain and he felt his fan kick up to combat the overheating.

“Hey, take it easy. That thing was dead when I found it and some of your...organs were too wet to work. Some of it just had to soak out but for others I had to do some transplants.” A slightly southern drawl spoke up behind him.

Nick turned toward the voice and was relieved to see Sturges. The relief only lasted a second, as he was still worried.

“Where’s John?” Nick asked.

“That’s who that ghoul is? No wonder he looked familiar. Gotta say, the tits are a surprise.” Said Sturges.

“Don’t be an ass just because he’s not here to stab you for it.” Nick snapped quickly, trying to pick the caught string out of himself. 

“Aw, shoot I didn’t mean it like that…” Sturges said, having the sense to be ashamed in his poor choice of words. “Preston’s with him. He hasn’t woke up as far as anyone knows.”

“How long have I been off?” Nick asked, needing a base of reference.

“‘Bout a day and a half.” Sturges answered with a shrug. “Took a bit to dry you out.”

That wasn’t too bad. Certainly not a coma, and John had only passed out an hour or two before Nick had powered down. Still, he was worried. He didn’t waste time trying to clip his skin back in place, deciding his clothes were enough to cover him for now and it could be done later. He wasn’t worried about anything falling out; He trusted Sturges to have done a good job. He dressed as quickly as he could and set out to Preston’s, wincing as his movements were stiffer than he was used to. He’d definitely rusted in the joints.

Hancock was laid out on Preston’s bed, dressed in an overlarge but blessedly dry flannel shirt, and wrapped in the thickest quilt Nick had ever seen. Despite the heavy covering, he was shivering. In a nearby chair sat Preston Garvey, a book open but his eyes not tracking. He looked up when Nick stepped into the room, a concerned smile on his face.

“Should have waited out the rain, huh John? I’m sorry…” Nick said, despite the ghoul still being unconscious.

“He’s got a chill, but at least his fever broke.” Preston reported, standing to put a hand on the Detective’s shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t have tried carting him through a downpour to us if he didn’t need the help in the first place. I’ve pumped him full of stims and there’s a real doctor on the way.”

“Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome. The Minutemen are always here to help.” Preston patted his back, put the book away, and left Nick with John.

Nick said nothing more, digging through the blanket for John’s hand. Once he found it he didn’t let go. At this point he didn’t think he would be able to. He had to hold onto John as long as he could.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mama Murphy shows up for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I'm not a complete sadist.

Mama Murphy let herself into the room where Nick sat with a still-resting John.

“I had a feeling I’d be with you two soon.” The old woman said. 

Nick figured she would have known they’d show up here even before they knew it. The woman was an oracle of sorts, and never wrong. She wasn’t aging well, though. Nick wondered how much time had passed for her to look so different to him. Her white hair was falling out and her face had taken on more wrinkles. She looked more fragile, too. It was honestly hard to tell if she was slowly going ghoul, or just getting older.

“I wanted to ask if you knew some way to stop him losing his mind. I’d have some jet for you but our coats are still at the station.”

“I can try to Look without it, dear. I can’t promise an answer though. Some problems don’t have answers.”

“It would be easier if they did. Don’t strain yourself.” Nick huffed sourly, but he was quick to soften his tone. Mama Murphy didn’t deserve disrespect, even if it was accidental. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh that’s alright.” The woman waved dismissively, then put up a visible effort to concentrate.

Several minutes passed. Nobody moved, though Mama Murphy’s breathing grew labored.

“You don’t have to-” Nick began, growing concerned, but he was quickly interrupted.

“He hasn’t fallen too far, but when he does he’ll be lost. He’ll need you to find him.” Mama Murphy said quickly, wavering on the spot.

Nick quickly rose and lead her to the chair he had been using. He had to let go of Hancock’s hand to do so, but he took it again once the woman was settled.

“Are you alright?” Nick wanted to ask what she meant by ‘finding John’ but he could do that after he made sure she would be fine.

“Just tired…”

Mama Murphy left again after she had caught her breath. Nick offered to assist her, noticing that she still seemed unsteady, but the elderly woman insisted that she was fine.

 

John finally woke a few hours later, dazed and confused as to where he was. He complained that he was cold, but he seemed otherwise fine for the moment. Neither mentioned the fact Nick was still holding his hand, but when Nick tried to politely pull away, John just tucked the limb closer to his chest.

“No you don’t Nicky. This is mine now.” John decided. Nick chuckled, glad the other seemed to feel better. “You’re fuckin’ warm.”

“Got a lot of moving parts. Energy puts out heat.” Nick explained, growing a bit self conscious. 

“I’m freezin’ over here and you’re a damn furnace. Get in here.” John huffed good naturedly, pulling open the quilt with his free hand.

“A lot of me is metal… I’m probably not the best candidate for a cuddle-buddy.” 

“Not the first time I’ve been in bed with someone pokin’ me.” John snickered.

Nick rolled his eyes, his fan kicking up in place of a blush, and he crawled into the blanket. John took possession of his entire arm, tucking it under him to lay on it. Nick knew for a fact there was no way that could even be remotely comfortable, but John didn’t seem at all put off and was soon asleep again. 

When the ghoul woke up the next time, some time in the night, his chill was gone. He propped himself up a bit, leaning on Nick for a second, causing Nick to remember the skin of his front torso had been left with Sturges. They had to spend a few minutes picking Nick’s shirt out of where it had gotten wedged in between a gear and one of many pipes.

Nick honestly expected John to be disgusted by seeing his insides, but the ghoul didn’t even flinch. Nick was grateful.

“Not that I’m complaining, and you don’t gotta answer but I have to ask; Where’d your skin go?.” John asked, once they got the shirt free.

“Sturges had to do some repairs. We got rained on pretty bad…” Nick answered sheepishly.

“Shit, you okay?”

“I am now. I just had to be dried out. I’m fine.” Nick sighed. “I was more worried about you. You hacked up blood and fainted. I didn’t think past getting you to help.”

Hancock was silent for a moment, then sighed. “You can’t help anybody if you flood yourself to death. That was stupid…” 

“I’m sorry I care.” Nick huffed, but there was no hostility in it. He just sounded tired.

“I appreciate it.” John said in an equally tired tone. “Thank you.”

The conversation stopped there and the two shared a comfortable silence. John stayed awake for the rest of the night, claiming he was too tired to sleep anymore. Nick didn’t buy it but he appreciated the company.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit of fluff and then right back to shit.

Hancock was quick to get back on his feet in the morning, despite protests from both Nick and Preston. The two wanted him to wait for the doctor that had been called upon to arrive. John was against the idea, but sadly outnumbered.

“Come on Nick we can’t just stay here. I feel fine right now. We gotta go. Anywhere.” John insisted, trying not to sound too urgent. “I’m fine.”

“It won’t do for someone to have travelled three days for a patient that isn’t even here.” Said Preston from the doorway, his arms crossed but an amused smile on his face. 

“If you can be a good boy and stay put for today I’ll take you to the movies.” Nick offered, though he was obviously joking.

John let his head fall back and groaned in annoyance, almost childishly. “Movies are rare as shit. Where would we even find one?”

“Oh, a detective has his ways.” Nick chuckled, but didn’t elaborate. 

“Should I leave you two alone?” Preston asked, prompting a snort from John.

“Yeah. Get the fuck out and come back with food, brother. I’m starving.” John snarked.

Preston sent him a lazy two fingered salute as he turned to leave. John answered the gesture with his own middle finger. Dogmeat yipped and hurried to follow Preston, tail wagging behind him. As soon as the Minuteman was out of sight, John’s smile dropped.

“We can’t stay here. These are good people and I'm getting dangerous.” 

Nick sighed heavily. “Just see the doctor for ten minutes. Make sure nothing’s wrong-”

“I’m dyin’ soon. I might get another month or two and that’s being positive.” John said solemnly. “No point casting a severed finger.”

Nick didn’t respond for a moment. He didn’t like the fact John seemed to be alright with just accepting the situation as it was. Usually, John was an unstoppable force of will. He’d taken an entire town with just his attitude and a handful of friends. Seeing him just give up was something Nick wasn’t sure he could fully process.

“Hell, I did this to myself anyway. I knew that shit would either cook me or kill me.” John shrugged, continuing since Nick hadn’t spoken further. “But if it will make _you_ feel better, fine. Five minutes with the good doctor when they get here. Then we go.”

“Then we go.” Nick agreed, deciding not to push any further.

John was relieved that Nick and he had found a compromise at least. He did feel bad for being so stubborn; He knew Nick was just looking out for him. Still, getting both of their hopes up for nothing was cruel. Better to take it one day at a time and leave it at that.

 

Doc Carrington was the last person Nick expected to be making a trip all the way to Sanctuary. He had met the doctor briefly when Nate let him tag along to look for the Railroad. The guy was an ass, but was a master of his field. Good work didn’t always make up for a lack of manners, but given limited options Carrington would just have to do.

“So this is where the former Mayor of Goodneighbor went?” Stanley huffed, “There are rumors you died.”

“Not far off.” John snarked right back. “How’s shit?”

“Annoying, in a word.” The doctor answered. “So, I know radiation poisoning isn’t a problem for ghouls and you don’t look injured so what am I wasting my time on?”

“Mostly Nicky’s nerves.”

Nick rolled his eyes and explained how Hancock had brought up blood and passed out. He didn’t mention the lapses of cognisance. That was for John to admit or keep to himself as he saw fit. 

“It’s like his health is having mood swings. One day he’s fine and the next he’s half dead with how sick he gets.”

Doctor Carrington marked a few things down on his clipboard, clicking his tongue. It was apparent he was being condescending. “Has he been overly hostile?”

“Oh fuck you.” Hancock growled. 

“That’s a yes.” Carrington made another mark. “Well, gentlemen. I have bad and obvious news.”

“We already know.” Hancock said. “So should I take my bullets with food or can I just-”

“John. Stop it.” Nick interrupted, sounding sharper than he meant, even in his own ears.

Hancock deflated, folding his arms and hunching in on himself a bit. He glanced out of the paneless window, then pushed himself from the bed.

“Pretty sure that was five.” Said John, taking his leave.

Hancock was visibly irritated, so Nick decided to give him a minute to himself. He turned back to the Doctor.

“Is there anything you can do?” The detective was almost afraid to ask, but he had to. Any chance there was to fix the situation and he would take it.

“Aside from giving him enough sedatives to kill a radstag or shoot him, no.” Carrington answered. “I cure the body, not the mind.”

 

Preston noticed John on the ghoul’s way out, picking up on his bad mood right away. He quickened his pace to walk alongside John and they both took to the side of the loop in the road. 

“Are you okay?” Preston asked.

“Stupid question.” Hancock gruffed.

“Humor me, then.” Preston shrugged. “There’s something off. If you need to talk about it-”

"I'm just pissed off. _Leave it alone.”_ Hancock sped up, intending to leave the conversation, but Preston made a grab for his shoulder to pull him back. 

The reaction was instinctive and immediate as the ghoul turned on the other, grabbing the offending hand and biting into Preston’s arm.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit short but the chapter after will make up for that.

A wordless shout from outside followed by Dogmeat sounding out what Nick knew to be an alarm bark caught his attention and he left his conversation with the doctor to hurry outside. It didn’t take long at all to find the cause of the commotion; John had Preston on the ground, the Minuteman guarding his face at the expense of his forearm. Several of Sanctuary’s residents had their guns trained on the ghoul, but thankfully none were confident enough to take a shot with Preston so close.

Dogmeat was running a frantic circle around the two, barking up a storm but not interfering. The dog seemed unsure if he should be attacking John or not, and so was holding off trying to get the ghoul’s attention instead.

“Hold your fire!” Nick shouted, only drawing Hancock’s attention to him.

The distraction was enough for the ghoul to let go of Preston’s arm, and the Minuteman was quick to get himself out of immediate reach. Dogmeat stayed close to Preston, his barking falling into a low but constant growl.

Nick remembered the feral woman, and how she hadn’t gotten aggressive while she remained unprovoked. Now really wasn’t the time or place to test a theory, but given the situation he didn’t have much of a choice. Just in case, Nick kept his hand on the handle of his gun.

“Don’t shoot. Quiet down and don’t move.” Nick ordered sternly, hoping the settlers trusted him well enough to listen.

Nobody lowered their guns, but there was total silence now. Hancock’s eyes stayed on Nick, the last to make a sound, and wavered on the spot. He was unfocused and unbalanced and it would have been easy to assume he’d had too much to drink. He’d been sober before this, though. The ghoul took a slow, staggering step toward Nick, and then another.

“Come on, John. You still remember me, don’t you?” Nick encouraged quietly, barely above a whisper. “You’re not gone yet…”

Hancock didn’t answer aside from a halfhearted snarl. Nick took the hint and shut up entirely. The hand that had been at his gun holster left his hip without the weapon and he cautiously reached out for John instead.

Hancock stopped his approach for a moment, letting out a shriek that would have made a human jump. Nick wasn’t human, though; He could stay still forever if he had to. 

“All of you, back away slowly and get out of sight. He’ll only get mean if someone pisses him off.” Nick told the others, having to raise his voice to make sure he was heard. 

Hancock screamed again and started clawing at his own ears. Luckily his nails were short, but it didn’t stop him from breaking skin. To hell with not provoking him, Nick decided, and quickly closed the gap between John and himself.

Hancock reacted instantly, flailing and trying to scratch as Nick took hold of his arms, pinning them. He put up a decent fight of it but Nick was much stronger and Hancock wasn’t in his best health lately. 

“Everyone, get inside!” Nick shouted, grateful that his advice was heeded.

After a few minutes Hancock either didn’t have strength left to struggle or he just decided to quit because Nick felt him go limp in his arms. 

“Where the hell?” John spoke up, his voice drowsy and hoarse from all the screeching.

Nick let him go then, and they both noticed the blood at the same time. John more so, as he could taste it in his mouth now that he had his wits about him again.

“Oh god… Nick, what did I do?” John asked, falling into panic quickly.

“It’s okay-” Nick began.

 _”What the fuck did I do?!”_ John pushed Nick away and looked at the surrounding area, eyes toward the ground. He half expected to see a fresh corpse somewhere, but there was just a bloodtrail leading away from them.

“It was… It was just a dog.” Nick stammered quickly. He didn’t want John blaming himself for something he couldn’t help.

“Shit, Dogmeat?”

“No it was just some mutt.” Nick explained, relieved that John seemed to be calming down. “You didn’t even kill it. It ran off.”

John got the feeling Nick didn’t sound as sincere as usual, but there wasn’t a body anywhere, dog or otherwise. He’d take Nick’s word that he hadn’t killed anything. Still, he could have and Nick still had his gun holstered. That worried him. 

“We should head back to the station and get our things. Then we’ll just have to see what we can do about that movie, okay?” Nick spoke up again, not wanting to stay long enough for John to find out who he’d actually taken a bite out of. Guilt and shame wouldn’t do the ghoul’s declining mental status any favors.

John would have found that even more suspicious if he was thinking clearly, but for now he was still reeling. He missed his own clothes anyway. He felt too exposed in borrowed rags.

They moved quickly, almost urgently, and both were glad for the distraction that travel provided. A few hours later they had gathered their clothes, John’s gun, stocked up on ammo, and were off again. Nick was leading, making a straight line for somewhere. He clearly knew exactly where he was going, so John followed quietly and tried not to think about how the bloodtrail in Sanctuary had lead into a house.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-nuclear apocalypse world probably has different dating ettiquette but Nicky's old-fashioned.

The Starlight Drive-In Theater was already cleared when they got there. Nate had taken out the ferals and molerats months ago, hoping to make a settlement out of it. The project was quickly given up on when none of the food would grow in the spaces between broken asphalt.

“A drive-in? You tryin’ to get me out of my coat, Nicky?” Hancock asked with a chuckle. “I’ve read a few books. This your idea of a date?”

“I think it’s lost some of its romance over the past two centuries. Still, a drive-in movie was the classy choice before everyone decided to blow each other up.” Nick answered cheerfully, more serious than John was.

“Damn, you _are_ trying to get me out of my coat.” John remarked, hairless brows raising in surprise. He hadn’t expected his joke to be correct. “Looks like we missed the last show.”

“We might be able to do something about that..” Nick said, untroubled as he made his way up into the projectors booth.

John followed him up and would have made a lewd comment on the mattress if not for the skeleton occupying it. Nick busied himself checking the tape reels, then huffed as they all seemed to be well past ruined. The projector itself was busted too, so that ruled out shadow puppets as well.

“Be able to see anything for miles up here…” John said as he looked out of the wide window, then pointed away from the large, blank screen. “So long as they came from that way.”

“Well the only tapes here are ripped or sunbleached… I’m afraid there won’t be any shows tonight.” Nick sighed. “Sorry about that.”

“No skin off my face.” John shrugged. He’d never seen a movie in his life, so he figured he wasn’t missing out on much anyway. 

 

There were a few cars forever parked at the theater, so the two made camp in one of the larger ones. It had bench style seats, perfect for Hancock to sleep on, if not a little worn out. Nick took the driver’s seat, impulsively checking the pedals. They didn’t work, of course, but now he couldn’t say he hadn’t tried.

The sound of the pedals moving had Hancock looking over the seat, curiosity clear in his face. 

“So if this thing still worked, how would you get it to go?” John asked, reaching over to try turning the steering wheel, but it had long since rusted in place. “You spin this thing?” He guessed.

Nick thought it would be funny to let John believe his guess was right, but decided against.

“No. There’s things in the floor you press with your foot to get it to start and stop. Speed depends on how hard you press. The wheel is for changing direction.” Nick explained. “Most had radios in them and drive-ins like this place had a small station for people to listen to the movie on. I wonder if this one still works…”

A bit of fiddling showed that, though dusty, the car radio could still pick up signals. They still only had the choice between Diamond City’s station or Classical. Both agreed without the need for words that DCR was the better choice. The music was all stale by now, but it was good to keep up with news. As per the new usual, Travis had to bring up the ‘Vault Dweller’ whenever he had the chance. If John didn’t know better he’d have assumed the radio host had some kind of a crush.

“Why’d you pal around with Nate as long as you did, anyway?” The ghoul wondered, settling into the back seat. He was short enough to even stretch out once he propped his booted feet onto the busted window. “You don’t usually turn clients into partners.” 

Nick sighed. It was an old scar he didn’t really want to pick at, but he trusted the other enough to tell him.

“Nate was looking for his kid; A baby, we thought at the time.”

“Kids go missing all the time.”

“Still… His wife was killed when the kid was taken. I guess it reminded me of Jenny.” The synth admitted, then fell quiet.

“Jenny?” Hancock prompted after a moment of silence. “There’s a new name. Old friend?”

“Nick, the original one, had a fiance. Crime boss named Winter killed her. He’s been dealt with now, and I’m glad for that but it doesn’t make it any better…” Nick started to explained, but trailed off into a raw silence.

“Damn. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” John apologized after a quiet moment.

“You have a right to be curious.”

Another long uncomfortable silence stretched on and Nick would have assumed the man in the backseat had fallen asleep until he heard the telltale rattle of a tin of mentats. John must have seen fit to even up the conversation after taking a few, because he spoke up again.

“I got a kid. She doesn’t know.”

Nick frown, confused. “I thought ghouls were sterile.”

“I wasn’t a ghoul at the time. Anyway I couldn’t keep her and her other father was just some guy passing. Reddest fuckin hair I’ve ever seen. Anyway, once she popped out I gave her to a ghoul woman that wanted a kid and couldn’t have any.”

Nick sympathized, but his own curiosity got the best of him. “Mind if I ask who the kid is?”

“As long as you don’t tell her.” Hancock chuckled, the previous offense diffusing as easily as it had sprung up.

“You have my word.” The synth promised.

The ghoul took a moment to consider before answering. “It’s Fahrenheit.”

“Huh,” Nick hummed thoughtfully, prompting the other to give more details without pressuring him to do so. He was curious, but he also didn’t want to cross any lines. Luckily the ghoul was more than willing to share the whole story.

_John McDonough had been holed up in his hideaway for months; An old abandoned truck trailer. Of course abandoned wasn’t the right word to use considering he was currently in it. He’d left his home in Diamond City once he realized he was pregnant. He didn’t want anybody knowing. Of course, he regretted it now that he had gone into labor alone._

_Quitting chems cold-turkey had been bad enough and nobody had warned him about postpartum bleeding. Now he was in severe pain and had a newborn with no way of taking care of her and no-one to help him. Luckily he had the forethought to stock up on cans of food so he didn’t have to go scavenging for a few days, at least. He had absolutely no will to move and had spent more time than he would ever admit to crying. He didn’t bother naming the infant. He loved her already but knew he was far from a fit parent. She would be better off with someone that actually wanted a kid in the first place._

_He went to Goodneighbor as soon as he was able. He had plenty of friends there. There was a ghoul woman named Aeva he knew he could trust with the situation. She had expressed a want for children to him before and owed him a favor anyway. It was tough to keep out of Vic’s attention with the baby in his arms, wrapped in a worn out shirt. Thankfully she was a reasonably quiet kid._

_He didn’t have to search long before he found Aeva in the Third Rail, chatting up Charlie. She sobered up when she noticed John and turned in her stool._

_“Long time no see. Been months. I thought you were dead.” She said when he got closer. The baby didn’t escape her notice at all. “Who the hell did you knock up?”_

_”Not important. I can’t keep her. I can’t fix shit with a baby on my hip.” John said quickly. “You said you’d like to have kids one day. Here’s your kid.”_

_”John…”_

“Please.”

_Aeva looked at him sternly, but took the baby into her own arms._

Hancock went further to explain how he kept up weekly donations of caps to help Aeva. Fahrenheit had never been told who her actual parents were, though he watched her grow up and even taught her to shoot before employing her. Nick was silent while the other explained. Then they were both silent.

A few minutes passed and John left the back of the car, only to climb back in on the front passenger’s side next to Nick. He tossed his hat on the dashboard, the flopped onto his side and tucked his legs up to his chest, laying his head on the synth’s thigh.

Nick was surprised, but didn’t protest. Instead he just smiled, and let John fall asleep with his leg as a pillow. Another hour into the night and Nick felt safe enough to power down and get as close to sleep as he could.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is some nice healthy smut because its my birthday tomorrow (wednesday) and I'm a slut.
> 
> Pics to go with this are on my fallout blog: brahminjerkybadass.tumblr.com/tagged/daxdraws

When Nick shut down for an emergency, he would remain non-functional until repairs had been made to resolve the cause. However, when he willingly powered himself down, a system self-diagnostic would be run to be addressed later and a timer would ‘wake’ him after a few hours. Usually he only powered down at the Agency at night when he was safe and not likely to have clients, but he had been comfortable enough for the night.

This time he woke up in the driver’s seat of a car. He didn’t move at first, as he had noticed heavy breathing and didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Being a detective at his core, his first instinct was to make a mental list of all relevant information he had in the moment; Hancock was no longer in the front seat but the tricorn was still in sight and he wouldn’t have left without it, the heavy breathing was coming from the back seat, and the car was moving just slightly. 

Nick’s first thought was that Hancock was having another cognitive lapse, but he doubted a feral would have gotten back into a car after getting out. His next thought was that it would be easier to figure out what was going on behind him if he just looked in that direction. As soon as he moved though, there was a squawked curse of surprise and Nick had turned just in time to see John tumble into the floorboard.

“Shit!” Hancock huffed.

“You alright?” Nick asked, though he was pretty sure now of what had been going on now that he had a clear view of the other’s unbuttoned pants. “Oh… Sorry if I interrupted.” 

Nick turned his head back to the front of the car, pointedly ignoring the rear view mirror to let Hancock have some small privacy. 

“Thought you were gonna sleep longer.” John admitted, his rough voice cracking oddly in embarrassment.

Nick shrugged. “I could take a walk if you want to be alone for a bit.” He offered. 

Nick understood it was probably difficult for someone with a high libido, or any libido at all for that matter, to have almost no opportunities to take care of physical needs. Traveling as a pair through a dangerous wasteland didn’t offer much privacy and avoiding settlements meant John couldn’t just find someone to spend an hour with. Nick himself didn’t really have a sex drive; He hadn’t been built with sex in mind, but he still knew how everything worked at least in a clinical sense.

“You can stay.” John replied, almost sheepishly. “I mean you don’t have to,” He backtracked quickly. “But I don’t mind. You just kinda startled me I guess. I wasn’t expecting you to move.”

Nick wasn’t expecting that sort of answer, but Hancock did a lot of unexpected things. It sort of made sense, though. They were… _something._ Nick wasn’t sure how to label it or even if it was something that should be labeled. John said before that it wasn’t just a physical attraction and Nick would gladly admit the feelings were mutual. But the ‘just’ had implied that even though it wasn’t the core of it, some want for the physical was still there.

“You, uh… want company back there?” Nick asked somewhat awkwardly, peering at John’s reflection in the cracked mirror.

John looked surprised, then confused, but soon broke into a grin. He climbed over the back of the front seat with all the grace of a mongrel, nearly leaving his pants behind as he hadn’t bothered to fasten them. Nick noticed the flag was absent, as were the boots.

“I’ll just come back up here.” John said once he had done exactly that.

The ghoul looked downright giddy, which Nick was happy to see. He didn’t have time to come up with a reply as he suddenly had a very horny Hancock in his lap. John was quick to kiss the other, who reciprocated as best as he could. It was clumsy, and a bit stiff on Nick’s end which caused John to pull away.

“You haven’t done this much, huh?” John observed aloud, though it was clear in his tone that there were no judgements being passed.

“Or at all.” Nick admitted.

“Oh…” John said softly, and backed off a bit. “You sure you want it to be me? I mean,” He gestured vaguely toward his own face, then looked away. “Whole body, Nicky…” 

Nick was confused for a moment before he realized John meant the scar tissue his skin was made of now. The synth frowned, having not expected the usually confident man to suddenly be self-conscious.

“I know.” Nick said seriously, turning John’s face with his metal hand to look at him again. “I don’t think you’re ugly. The way I hear it, a good third of the commonwealth doesn’t think it either.”

“Most of them were ghouls, had a fetish, or were just foolin’ around experimenting…” John huffed. 

“Everyone’s a little torn up. With us it's just a little more literal.” Nick shrugged, waving toward the rips in his face and neck. “I don’t mind. Hell, you’ve seen my insides and haven’t treated me any different.”

“You’re beautiful, Nicky.” John reassured, taking the bait the detective had thrown. 

“So are you.”

John let out a short, relieved laugh, then leaned in toward Nick to kiss him once again before moving on to the synth’s torn neck. Nick guessed that was supposed to be doing something for him. It didn’t, but he let John try anyway. He mainly just wanted to hold the smaller man. 

Both were surprised when John’s tongue accidentally found a bit of exposed wire. The insulation had worn away long ago and when moisture touched it, it sent a jolt through Nick and gave a rather unpleasant shock to John, who darted backward and held a hand over his mouth. It had only stung the ghoul a bit and done no real damage to either of them but Nick still felt the need to apologize. He didn’t get the chance to say anything, though, because John was laughing into his chest a second later.

There was an unspoken agreement not to mention the literal shocking experience as John sat up to take his coat off. Nick followed his lead and soon they were both out of most of their clothes. Nick kept his pants on, though John had disrobed entirely. Given the previously established discomfort with their own bodies, and the cramped space of the car, the intimacy of undressing each other was forfeit so they could each go only as far as they were comfortable with.

John was very touch oriented, and had to trace the edges of all the tears and bullet holes in Nick’s grey skin. Nick allowed it, though he wasn’t sure if he liked that much attention to details when it came to this situation in particular.

“So, how do you wanna do this?” John asked suddenly.

“Hmm?” Nick’s brow furrowed in confusion, prompting John to explain.

“You’re the prude here. You get to call the shots.” John snorted. 

“I’m not a _prude_.” Nick protested quickly. “I just don’t usually feel any desire for sex.”

John backed off again and Nick wished he would stop doing that.

“Is there a reason you’re starting now?” John asked.

“Well you’ve got yourself started. Call me curious.” Nick shrugged. There was nothing physical in it for him and he knew that. He was fine with that. “I want to see how you look when you’re… enjoying yourself. I’d like to participate if you’ll let me.” It was the politest way Nick could think of say that he wanted to see John come undone with the synth to thank. 

“Oh I’ll let you. I just wanna know how to make it mutual.”

That would be a problem, Nick thought to himself.

“I wasn’t built like that. I don’t have-”

“A penis. You told me.” John shrugged. “I assumed at the time we had the same sort of situation downstairs.”

“I don’t have that either. I know you’ve seen gen2 synths running around on patrols… It’s just my brain that’s different from those. Body’s built the same.” Nick explained.

“There’s gotta be something I can do for you. Tug a wire, turn a dial? Floss a pipe?” John guessed, but Nick just shook his head to all of it.

“If you go tugging wires you’ll either shock yourself again or break me.” 

John steepled his fingers against his upper lip, tapping it as he thought. He didn’t seem to be able to come up with any more ideas though, and eventually shrugged it off and grabbed his pants.

“What are you doing?” Nick asked. “I still have hands.” 

“No point if you’re not into it.” John sighed. “I told you before. You’re not a toy to me.”

“I would be into it. Just not on a physical level.” Nick protested. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to try.”

John took a moment to think on that, then tossed his pants over the back of the seat. He smiled, leaning back against the passenger side door and spread himself out, one foot on the seat, the other four-toed one at the floorboard. His left arm draped over the back of the seat, the other hand on his thigh. It was a powerpose if Nick ever saw one but he got the feeling it was John’s way of making himself feel more confident with himself than to try displaying control. Nick was the one in control for now, it seemed.

“You can just watch, if you want.” John offered. “Or you can take up where I left off when you woke up. Gotta start over either way. Some personal preferences though, if you’re going to be a talker. This,” He emphasized by thumbing over his clit which Nick noticed prompted a twitch in his thigh, “Is my dick, and I got two holes. You can call it a cock, schween, whatever but if I hear the word ‘pussy’ I’m leaving.”

“I understand.” Nick nodded. “Anything else?”

“Yeah… Not really into people grabbing my chest.” John shrugged.

“Alright.” Nick smiled. “I think for now I’ll just watch and see what you do, then I can try once I’ve got an idea of it?”

“Gotcha.” John said softly, “Feel free to jump in whenever you’re ready.”

Nick nodded, and John began slowly rubbing a finger on either side of his dick. He was still wet from earlier and the sight had Nick’s internal fan speeding up enough that it was just audible. John smiled, and the scar tissue made it even more apparent that he had gone a bit red. After a moment, John slid his middle finger into himself, the digit going easily. He’d gotten further than this by himself already, but John had a need to put on a good show now that he had a very special audience.

Nick suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he took to fidgeting. John noticed this, if the low chuckle meant anything. 

John was quick to add a second finger in with the first, pumping them in an out of himself. He kept it slow; He wanted to give Nick plenty of time to participate if he worked up the nerve to do so.

Nick wasn't’ even paying attention to John’s hand. He was much more interested in his face. There were so many little expressions happening at once and he’d gone pink so quickly. It was only when John made a brief and quiet humming sound somewhere in the back of his throat that Nick moved to get closer. 

John stilled for a moment, then took his fingers out of himself and beckoned the other closer. Nick considered it, but sitting up against a door had to be uncomfortable. He gripped onto John’s thighs and pulled him across the seat to give him room to lay down, which John did.

The flush in John’s skin deepened further and he grinned. “Didn’t take you for a bossy top.”

“I just…” Nick began, but wasn’t sure how to continue.

“Don’t go gettin’ bashful now.” John snickered, pulling his knees up to rest them over Nick’s clothed thighs. “If you wanna touch me, touch me. Grab me, shove me, I can handle bein’ dragged around.” 

Nick took a moment to steel himself, searching John’s face but finding no hesitation there. Gingerly, he leaned over the ghoul and rested his right hand, the skeletal one on John’s hip, tracing the hipbone with his thumb. The fingers of his left hand ghosted over Hancock’s slit, and John let out a pleased sigh.

“Whenever you’re ready, Nicky.” John encouraged, a new tenderness in his voice the detective had never heard before.

Carefully, Nick pushed two fingers into the other, since John had left off at two. He forgot to take into account that John’s fingers were thinner than his own. John grunted, but his smile hadn’t faltered so Nick started to move his hand. It was a repetitive motion that didn’t take any thought to perform but soon John was rolling his hips to match Nick’s pace.

John was certainly a sight like this. His thighs twitched, caught between staying spread and trying to wrap around Nick. His breathing had become erratic and with every exhale came a moan that made Nick feel accomplished.

“Three…” John whined suddenly, “Fuck, give me three. I need more.” 

Nick obliged, though he slowed since he noticed that a third finger was a stretch. John had them speeding up soon enough, though. John was very responsive and Nick was mesmerized.

John really wasn’t used to anyone looking at his face too much during sex, much less his eyes. The blackouts he had for eye put most people off, he guessed, even if the scars didn’t. He’d had plenty of partners but most just looked at his body. Nick, however, made eye contact every chance he got. If it were anyone else John would have been embarrassed, but coming from Nick it was sweet. It made him feel special.

“Can I try something?” Nick asked suddenly.

John nodded, and Nick scooted backward. His hand stayed busy with its task but now Nick had room to lean down.

“Oh _fuck,_ Nicky.” John gasped when he realized what Nick was about to do.

As soon as Nick’s mouth made contact with John’s dick, however, the ghoul pushed him away with his foot.

“Shit your mouth is dry.” John complained. “Like sandpaper…”

“No salivary glands. Sorry, was that bad?” Nick apologized.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed. Get up here for a second.”

Nick moved so that he was more directly over the ghoul. John pulled him into an open, and somewhat sloppy kiss. Nick didn’t see why this was a solution until his mouth suddenly flooded and John broke away and nudged him downward. John had spat into his mouth.

“Gross.” Nick commented, slurring as he wasn’t used to any fluid in his mouth.

“Sex _is_ gross.” John countered, “You know, you don’t _have_ to- _Ah!”_

John didn’t get to finish the thought before Nick’s mouth was on him; Clumsy and inexperienced but so obviously eager to please. It didn’t take long at all for him to get the hang of it and with the mix of Nick’s tongue on his cock and the fingers inside, John was already close. And then Nick bent his fingers forward.

“ _Fuck!_ Right there.” John keened, arching his back suddenly.

Nick wasn’t even sure what he touched to get that reaction, but he was proud of himself and repeated the motion of his fingers a few times until he felt John’s walls clench and relax a few times and just like that the ghoul was gushing. Nick sat up so he could properly watch John come, his fingers continuing to move until John had to push his hand away.

“Too much, Nicky. Damn…” John panted quietly.

“Sorry.” Nick said quickly, “Guess I got carried away?”

John laughed, or more accurately wheezed as he was still trying to catch his breath. “Don’t apologize. You’re perfect.”

Nick chuckled, and planted a kiss on John’s knee. John smiled at him fondly, and then reached for his flag to clean them both up.


	18. Chapter 18

The two stayed at the drive-in for a few days. After the night and morning they spent in the car John had fallen sick again. Nick took care of him as best he could, managing to scavenge some Med-X from the toolshed, which kept John from bringing up blood again. Why Med-X was even in the toolshed, the detective hadn’t a clue but he wasn’t about to go questioning a blessing.

As soon as John felt well enough they were back to wandering and sleeping wherever they found decent cover. Nick even powered down if he felt the area was secure enough. It made him feel just a little less like a machine and if he caught John at himself when he powered up again it may not have been entirely unintentional. Nick noticed John was considerably less stressed in general if sex was a regular occurrence and Nick even enjoyed it in his own way.

On the nights where Nick felt the need to stay on, he took to studying his companion. John wasn’t fully feral yet but there had been small moments when he wasn’t in control of himself and Nick had noticed a pattern. Anger seemed to be the big trigger so far, but John always came back to himself after a few minutes as long as he had a chance to calm down.

Sometimes John just turned for no reason at all that Nick could gauge. Those were the times he just sort of wandered like he was lost and too drunk to figure out which way was up. He’d get aggressive if Nick got too close but again only took a few minutes to get his mind back. His lucidity was fracturing, but not completely gone yet.

_The mind…_

“Maybe Doctor Amari could-” Nick began, as the two were stripping meat from a radstag to smoke and dry for jerky.

“No.” John was quick to shut that thought down. “No more doctors, and no Goodneighbor.”

“But she works specifically with brains.” Nick pointed out. “If you lose your mind I bet she could find it.”

“Come on, nobody wants to go rooting around in my fucked up head.” John gruffed, stuffing the meat in his bag and standing to return to the latest camp they had made. “Two seconds and she’d need her own brain doctor to erase the shit she’d see.”

“I let her root around in mine.” Nick chuckled and followed. “She was gentle.” He hoped a joking tone would at least get John to consider the possibility.

John stopped walking, hanging his head so the brim of his hat covered his eyes. “Just… stop.”

Nick stopped walking as well, though he knew that wasn’t what the other meant. He waited for John to continue, hoping the ghoul had enough sense to vent instead of continuing to internalize like Nick knew he was doing.

“Stop trying to save me.” John clarified, even though there was no need to.

“I can’t do that.” Nick said solemnly. “I-”

 _“Don’t.”_ John snapped, baring his teeth. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“John,”

“No. You and me, we’re gonna have a good time for however long I’ve got and then I’ll be gone and you can go home. Hell, you wanna do me a favor?” John growled, his voice raising and becoming more rough. “Set up another Agency in Goodneighbor and make sure Fahrenheit gets a chance to get grey-haired and pissy. Walk her down the fuckin’ alley for me if her and Kleo ever get hitched. Tryin’ to keep me around longer ain’t work out well for anyo-Ugh!” John cut himself off, dropping the bag of meat to clutch his head.

Nick immediately felt guilty for pushing. He moved forward with the intent to help however he could. John closed the gap and his hands left his own head to clutch at Nick, who for a second mistakenly believed John was seeking comfort. 

He was wrong. 

As soon as Nick tried to embrace the ghoul he felt teeth tear past the sleeve of his coat, sinking into the synthetic skin of his shoulder. Nick pushed him off quickly feeling a tug and a pop when John was dislodged. Light green liquid began bleeding from the damage but Nick ignored it, pulling his revolver from his holster and pointing it at the other.

John didn't react to the sight of the gun. He never did like this. He just snarled and whined and screamed and Nick hated the fact he had to hear such pained sounds from John's throat.

 _Point blank range, no way to miss the head. Just put it out of its misery._ Came a voice not unfamiliar to Nick, but not his own. He didn’t listen to it, turning the gun to hit John across the temple with the handle. 

The ghoul fell like a sack of tatoes and was motionless for a time. If not for the motion of breathing, Nick would have worried he’d hit him too hard.

“Give him a few minutes.” Nick told the unwelcomed voice. "Thought I deleted you..."

 

John wasn’t entirely sure how he wound up on his back on the ground, but his head hurt like hell and Nick was standing over him so his best guess was that he had probably tried to attack and been pushed away. He knew Nick was strong and could easily kick John’s ass if he really tried.

“Are you with me?” Nick asked, his stance still guarded.

“I’m with you.” John replied quickly, and noticed a sharp, sour taste in his mouth. It wasn’t blood, but the greenish wet spot on Nick’s sleeve gave him a pretty good idea of what it actually was. “Shit… I bit you.” It wasn’t a question. 

Nick just shrugged it off. “Nothing duct tape won’t fix. I’ve had worse.”

“You should have just shot me.”

“I’ll shoot you when knocking you out stops working.” The detective chuckled, and helped the ghoul up.

The coolant tube that had come loose in Nick's arm was easy to pop back in, though it kept snagging and popping out again due to the fresh hole in Nick's skin. Duct tape ended up being the actual best solution, despite Nick having said it jokingly. He wouldn't let John apologize, though John kept trying. Nick wasn't about to go blaming the ghoul for something he didn't do on purpose. 

They went to sleep and powered down, respectively, holding eachother tightly, but when Nick woke up John was nowhere to be seen.


	19. Chapter 19

It wasn’t uncommon for Hancock to wander off during a lapse, so Nick searched the area calmly. He expected to find the ghoul nearby, but aside from a snag of red string on a low branch, there was no clear sign of him. Nick sighed, put the string in his pocket, and took that as a clue as to the direction John went.

Evidence that he was on the right track appeared on the form of boot-crushed foliage, giving him a clear path for about half a mile. The tracks were even, though, not staggering. John had been aware of himself when he left and took to the first available road. Nick hated roads. Almost impossible to track anyone on. 

The tracks didn’t extend to the other side of the road, so Nick had to pick a direction. Luckily it wasn’t a crossroads, narrowing the choice down to two. Westward would just take him toward Diamond City and Goodneighbor, both of which John was making a point to avoid. Nick decided to try his luck east. 

John had been a constant runaway as an adolescent. Nick had spend a good portion of the younger man’s life tracking him down and he still had a list filed away of likely places for John to go. Goodneighbor was the big one, but not an option now. The Slog was too far. Few places were likely given the fact John wasn’t keen on getting too close to any settlements. Still, there had only ever been one time that Nick hadn’t been able to find the other. 

Nick stopped, suddenly realizing he knew where John had been that one time. John had told him; In the back of an abandoned semi-truck, waiting to have a baby. Now, there were a lot of abandoned trucks dotting the Commonwealth, but for one to be cool enough to actually live in for months it would need to be well shaded. 

Nick was old and had seen a lot of the Commonwealth while out looking for the lost. He’d seen one truck, flipped on its side and just off of the road years ago, well hidden by trees. That had to be the place, and he’d past it half an hour ago.

“Shit,” Nick huffed, turning around and running the other direction before veering off of the road and into what had been a forest path, now overgrown. 

A reappearance of the bootprints proved the detective’s hunch correct, and he followed them to the wrecked vehicle. The back hatch was closed, but broken. There was just enough room for someone skinny to fit through a corner. John was certainly small enough, and there was the telling pink fumes of jet leaking out. Thanking his synth strength, Nick wrenched the opening further so he could get inside.

“Go home, Nicky.” John’s rough and quiet voice called from the shadows. “I’m not hurtin’ you again.”

“You didn’t mean to.” Nick justified. “I don’t blame you. Not like it hurts, anyway. I’ve had worse.”

“You’ve spent my whole damn life tryin’ to save me. Just give up. Just this once. I’m not worth you going through hell with me and I should never have asked you to.”

“Well you did.” Nick shrugged. “I could have walked away if I wanted but I’m still here. And I’m actually glad you did-”

“Don’t.”

“-because I love you.”

A shocked length of silence passed between them, tense and heavy. Nick briefly wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. It was true, of course; He wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t. But maybe he’d read whatever it was between John and himself wrong. Hell maybe the infatuation was one-sided and John had just been after sex after all, but no. Nick knew John better than that and the doubt was just a product of nerves.

“Now why’d you have to go and say that…” John sighed heavily, the furrow in his brow deepening the other creases in his face. “Breakin’ my heart.”

Another silence, in which there was an audible click from John’s shotgun. He’d turned the safety off. “Can you delete your memories?” John asked.

That caught Nick off-guard. “Some of them, depending on what kind of memory. What does that have to do with-”

“Delete me.” John said, and Nick didn’t miss the scarred thumb on the hammer of the gun. “Go home, forget me, and be happy.”

“I can’t do that.” Nick took a careful step toward the ghoul, keeping his tone soft. “I told you I’d stick by you.”

“You also said you’d shoot me before I hurt anybody. Look how that turned out. I know it wasn’t a dog.” John snapped, then winced at his own tone and looked to the floor.

“John,”

“Goodbye Nicky.” Said John quietly, and cocked his gun with the clear intention of turning it on himself.

Nick acted fast, wrenching the gun away. Synths were stronger than humans and ghouls, but it still took effort to pry the weapon out of John’s hands. There was no real way to do it safely; A shot went off, which grazed the ghoul’s bicep but John was otherwise uninjured. Nick crushed the both barrels of the gun and tossed it away.

Nick wanted to be angry, but then John began to cry, covering his face in his hands and letting out broken sobs that Nick had heard before, but not for a long time. John’s arm was bleeding freely, not that he bothered trying to staunch the flow.

“I’m sorry,” John hiccupped. “I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh stop that. I know.” Nick sighed, sitting down next to the other and pulling him close to hold him, rocking him for a while. “It wasn’t you. Not really.”

John just continued to apologize until he wore himself out. Nick laid him down on the mattress after he passed out and took the coat off of the smaller form to get a better look at the bulletwound. It was a clean shot, no bullet or shrapnel to dig out of it. He bandaged the arm, chuckling dryly at how it mirrored the duct tape on his own.   
“Guess we’re even, now.” Nick said, even though the sleeping ghoul couldn’t hear him. “You can stop beating yourself up about it.” 

A look around the back of the truck proved interesting. There was a simple bedroll on which the both of them currently sat, dark stains marking blood from two decades prior. Several open and empty cans and boxes of what used to be food littered the place, and there was a haze hanging around from more recent chem use. Instead of on John, the frock coat and tricorn were shoved into a corner. 

It was strangely homely, all things considered, and despite the fact Nick wasn’t personally close to Fahrenheit, he was happy to see where she had been born. He hoped being here had a similar effect on John, but probably not considering what he had just tried to do to himself. Maybe he had been seeking comfort from this place and just hadn’t found it. Clearly he missed his kid.

Nick made the decision then and there to take John to the Glowing Sea. Nobody was there for John to hurt. Nobody was there to go around shooting ferals. People would be safe from John, and John would be safe from people. Nick wasn’t affected enough by radiation to have any second thoughts about keeping his companion company indefinitely in the Sea. All he had to do was get them both there in one piece.


	20. Chapter 20

Night had fallen by the time the ghoul finally stirred. When John woke up he was still himself, but Nick noticed he was calmer than he had been in days prior. Less twitchy. They shared a cigarette in silence, that and Nick’s eyes serving as the only light in the dark. Moonlight couldn’t reach inside the truck and the only lantern had been void of oil years ago. The hat and coat stayed in the corner.

John stayed touching Nick, grounding himself against the other. Nick kissed his forehead and said nothing. John kissed Nick’s mouth and said just as much. Trading silent affections and burning tobacco until morning just seemed to be the right thing to do.

“So, who was it?” John asked when they had gotten on the road again. 

He’d left his hat and coat behind in the truck. He decided he didn’t want to be Hancock when he turned, which he got the feeling would be soon. He had the itch of barbed wire under his skin constantly now and every little noise was irritating. He could bear it for now, but who knows when he’d finally snap. Somebody else worthy of the costume would find it and take on the role of benevolent trouble-maker; Let a new Hancock rise when he was needed. John would die just John.

“Who was whom?” Nick asked.

“The dog that I know wasn’t a dog. Who’d I try to kill?”

Nick sighed. “You didn’t try to kill anyone, just took a bite out of Preston. You caught his arm. I’d bet a hundred caps that he’s perfectly fine now. There was a doctor present, remember?”

“So why the hell did you lie to me?” John continued. He didn’t sound angry at least, just weary.

“Because I knew you’d blame yourself and I didn’t think you needed the extra stress.” Nick explained. “And I was right, wasn’t I?”

John just shrugged. “Didn’t hurt him too bad, did I?”

“Preston’s faced off against worse than you. You just surprised him, I’m sure.”

John supposed that was the best answer he could hope for and tried to take comfort in it as they kept walking. A few miles later, he was on his knees bringing up nothing but blood and bile. Nick rubbed his back until he finished, then picked him up.

“What are you doing?” 

“We’ve got a lot of ground to cover and you get tired. I don’t. Take a nap, I’ve got you.” Nick instructed.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.” Nick promised. 

“Yeah, that’s not cryptic.” John snarked, but knew Nick probably wouldn’t elaborate.

Maybe, John decided, if the detective wasn’t giving up on him… Just maybe John could fight the change. He had a stubborn synth backing him up and that was more than other ghouls could claim. John tucked his face to Nick’s chest, letting the white noise of the fan and motion of being carried lull him. He was exhausted anyway. 

 

John woke up when he was set gently on the ground. Nick was walking away and in his sleep-addled state he nearly panicked, thinking he was being left behind. Then he noticed the pack brahmin and realized Nick was just making a trade. John calmed, watching as the synth made idle conversation and handed over a large rattling bag of caps in exchange for a few packs of cigarettes, dried food, and three whole tins of mentats. If Nick had the parts John could have blown him on the spot, right in front of the caravan, in gratitude.

Nick was a gentleman with no sex drive though, so John settled on kissing every inch of Nick’s pretty plastic face.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Nick observed.

“Gimme the mentats.” John answered, reaching for a tin.

“Food first.” Nick ordered, holding it up out of his reach.

“Fuckin tall people…”

“I was built to be average.” Nick corrected, handing John a pouch of squirrel bits mixed with carrots. “You’re just short. All the chems and lack of food stunted your growth I’m sure.”

“You live off of cigarettes.” John shot back, stuffing the food into his mouth.

“I don’t have a stomach.” Nick pointed out. “But fine, I’ll tell you what; If you pull through this I’ll quit smoking.”

“Heh, sure.” John snickered. “If you quit the smokes, I’ll quit the chems. We can keep eachother on the wagon.” 

Nick smiled that damn sweet crooked smile of his and nodded. “Seems like a fair deal.”

It took a few weeks and Nick noticed John was more irritable, but he was having fewer lapses. He didn’t dare to hope the whole thing was a false alarm and the ghoul was getting better, but it did seem like he was. Maybe getting closer to the pocket of rads that was the Sea was helping the ghoul keep his head. Nick wasn’t about to pretend he knew everything but most of the ghouls he’d seen were drawn to extra radiation, be it radstorms or glowing water.

 

It just had to be raiders. They only had three miles to go to get to the Glowing Sea but the damn vultures must have thought a sick ghoul and a synth were easy pickings. They would have been right, too, if not for the fact pissing off John was now a surefire way to have him turn. Nick only got three shots on one raider before John had charged past and tore the biggest one’s throat out. 

With his teeth.

“John!” Nick called, but the ghoul wasn’t listening.

“Shit! It’s a feral!” One raider cursed, turning to flee.

“Fuck this, I’m out!” The other agreed as she followed the first. 

John chased them a few meters, screeching a wordless warning before returning to the one he’d killed. Nick watched, stunned as John put his hand on the dead raider’s face, shaking the head as if he was trying to wake them in an admittedly rude manner. A steady growl was present and that, too, was coming from John. He took a sniff at the body, then lowered his own face and the realization of what he was about to do was what stirred Nick into moving again.

“John, _no!”_ Nick shouted, running to hold John back from his attempt at eating someone else.

John wasn’t quick enough to avoid being grabbed, nor was he strong enough to break free. It didn’t stop him from trying. Nick had him from behind which kept him from biting, but his teeth were still trying and clicking against empty air. 

“Stop it!” Nick pleaded as he held John’s arms tightly against his body. “A few more minutes. You were getting better. You’ll come back. Just stop.”

John wasn’t listening though. He just thrashed and screamed, covered in human blood. Nick didn’t let him go and continued to beg. They stayed that way for hours, but John didn’t get any better. 

He just screamed.

Eventually Nick had to release John to prevent the ghoul, feral now, from hurting himself in his violent attempts at escape. John sprinted away as soon as he was able, stumbling over his own feet. He tore off his boots and got up again to stagger away. Nick noticed he was still going the direction of the Glowing Sea, which was lucky. If he was careful, he could probably still herd John into the glowing green mists where he would be safer.

The body of the raider, Nick was glad to see, was left alone.


	21. Chapter 21

Nick learned quickly to keep a distance of at least ten feet at all times, but he kept John in sight. He didn’t get tired, so it was easy to follow the ghoul and make sure he didn’t get into any serious trouble. They made it into the Glowing Sea fairly quickly; John seemed drawn to it, so Nick hardly had to herd him there. 

It was peaceful for the better part of an hour and then John decided he just _had_ to pick a fight with a radscorpion. It was a little one, at least, though Nick had to waste a good amount of bullets to make sure it didn’t kill John. The thing still got a few strikes on the ghoul, but John didn’t seem phased by his new injuries in the slightest. All of his limbs were still attached and the giant bug was dead so clearly this was a win.

“Please don’t ea- Aaaand you’re eating it anyway.” Nick rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Funny how I had to remind you to eat yesterday, and now you do it on your own when I don’t want you too. That’s _raw._ You’re gonna get sick.”

John growled, seeming to have only just noticed Nick was there. He started to drag the radscorpion away.

“I’m not gonna take it from you. By all means, eat the whole damn thing and throw up again.”

John kept up the growl, looking up at Nick periodically from where he had his face in the belly of the bug. He wasn’t even using his hands and there was grey-green goo all over him now. It was a disgusting sight. Even covered in scars, the old John had a streak of vanity too strong to stoop this low and the thought just put a mean spark in Nick’s head. John wouldn’t be here acting like a damn animal if he’d never become a ghoul in the first place and Nick knew John had done that to himself on purpose.

“You know…” Nick began, deciding to get his thoughts out. “When I found you after you took that damn radiation drug… You were sweating blood, eyes all red. Your hair was just starting to fall out. You were stoned out of your mind, in pain, and crying and I had the nerve to be happy about it because I finally had a friend that might outlive me. You were supposed to make it to forever with me. But here we are. I’m following your feral ass around the Glowing Sea and you aren’t even listening to me!” Nick spat, taking off his hat to throw at the ghoul.

It bounced off of John’s shoulder, and he flinched away from the offending scrap of felt and made a wet, hacking sound at it.

“Well I’ve had it with you!” Nick just continued to vent. “If I’d known I’d just be in for more heartbreak the second time around I would have just stayed dead… If I even count as alive now in the first place.”

John whimpered, and for a second Nick though it may have been a reaction to his words, but no. He’d just raised his voice too much and John didn’t like the volume. 

A wave of guilt replaced the anger. Sure, John had taken the drug that turned him into a ghoul willingly, knowing it would either kill him or make permanent and severe changes to his body, but Nick knew John hadn’t thought this far ahead. Hell there were plenty pre-war ghouls that still had their minds intact. There was no way to know how drug-induced ghoulification would differ from the slow and natural process of just reacting well to radiation poisoning.

“I’m sorry… This isn’t your fault.” Nick said quietly, taking a seat on a rock and staring down at his hands.

John just kept trying to drag his kill away, but only managed to move it a few feet before stopping to eat more. Once he had what he wanted he flopped onto his side, his growl lessening into a still-constant but quieter rattling rasp. 

“I remember the first thing you ever said to me. ‘Hey, Mister. My mama said cigarettes are bad for you.’” Nick chuckled, a fond smile gracing his torn face at the memory. “Then you kicked me in the shin. Ten years later you were smoking them with me… Guess I was a bad influence. All addicts start somewhere, huh?”

Nick wasn’t even sure if synths had souls, but just in case he bowed his head and prayed for the first time in a century; For John’s safety and for his patience to hold out.

 

God must think He’s real damn funny, Nick decided when John lead him to a whole pack of ferals. There were four, five if he counted John. Among them, Nick was surprised to see, was Hatchetface, the feral woman with whom John had shared a patch of sun with months ago. There was also a large glowing one, and two other males. None of them tolerated Nick half as well as John did so his usual ten-foot distance became closer to thirty.

Given a lack of anything else to do, Nick decided to take notes on the ferals, studying them. They weren’t as mindless as most people thought, as it turned out. There was a loose but apparent social order, with the glowing one being in charge as far as Nick could tell. That didn’t last long, as John picked a fight with that one too. 

Nick nearly put a bullet in the green bastard, fearing the pack would turn on John. It didn’t happen, and John had appointed himself the new leader without even killing the glowing one. Of course he would want to be in charge of things, Nick mused fondly, he was still Hancock somewhere deep down. 

Perhaps the weirdest discovery Nick made in the Sea was the fact ferals had sex. What had started off as a squabble over meat ended up with the glowing one trying to get John under him. _Trying._ John wasn’t having that, at least while he was trying to eat, kicking the unwanted advances away.

“He’s telling you no, Jackass!” Nick gruffed, throwing a rock at the pushy green ghoul. “Shoo!”

Jackass screeched a warning in offense to Nick at the same time John decided he’d finally had enough and turned on the other. He actually bit off a sizable chunk of skin from the other, swallowing it before Nick could even think to stop him. Not even an hour later John had mounted Jackass with no hard feelings on either end. Yep. Still Hancock somewhere.

It was a quick thing, just two ghouls chasing an instinct to procreate instead of enjoying each other's company. Nick did his best to ignore it but John was just as noisy now as he had been before he turned. He tried not to be jealous. 

_Your boyfriend’s an animal now. He don’t love you anymore. If he ever did. Never said it, did he?”_ A low, cynical voice said.

“Shut the hell up.” Nick snapped.

_He ever howl like that for you?_

“You’re going the right way for deletion again.”

_Didn’t work the first time._

At least he had someone to talk to out here, even if Kellogg seemed dead set on pissing him off. To both of their surprise, John came right up to Nick as soon as he was done with the glowing feral. Nick kept still, not wanting to scare him off. John sniffed at him, then flopped right next to where Nick sat, almost on the synth’s feet.

“John?” Nick asked quietly, hoping for a lucid answer.

John only let out a tired, rattling breath. But he was calm, at least.


	22. Chapter 22

Along with Hatchetface and Jackass, Nick took to calling the other two Jingleheimer and Schmidt. There was a song in the pre- war days called _John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt_ (Or Smith, depending who you asked.) and at the Nick just really needed something to laugh about.

Nick kept busy doing mental research on the ferals and eventually reached the conclusion they were not much different than animals. Sick animals, but not inherently violent. They were social, and usually grouped into a pile to sleep. They were drawn to radiation and warmth, though bright lights and loud noises pissed them off real quick. They would get aggressive with each other on occasion, particularly Jackass(Though John was always quick to knock the glowing one down a peg if needed.).

John was the odd one out. While the others no longer minded Nick after a month, John was the only one who would actually approach him. While the others slept with each other in a pile, John would occasionally leave the pile to sleep near Nick instead. Nick hoped that meant John still knew him somehow. Either that or he was just being attracted to the extra heat Nick’s processes put out.

It was probably a stupid idea, but when John was close and calm, Nick would sit on the ground and speak to him softly. 

“Your name was John McDonough.” Nick began. “You had a name before that but I know you’d punch me for using it. If you’re even listening… You had a mother, a brother, and a stepfather. Your real father was a mistake on your mother’s part. Not to say that you were a mistake but I know you sure as hell felt like it sometimes when you were young and drunk in my office.” Nick sighed deeply, reaching toward where John lay on the ground beside him, staring into nothing. 

John growled, and Nick retracted his hand.

“Yeah… I know. Not yet, then.” Nick put his hand back in his lap, tapping his knee. “You were in my office a lot as a kid. I say kid… You didn’t really start getting into trouble until you were fifteen and even then I only had to arrest you twice. Both of those times you were on psycho. You kept running off, too. Worried your brother sick and your mother, well. She wasn’t all there, was she?”

“Rrruuuhhhhh.” John groaned quietly. It was just an idle noise, but Nick took it as conversation.

“I know. ‘Bitch who birthed you’ were your words, right?” Nick asked, remembering many a drunken rant that a younger John had gone through in his office past midnight when the boy was upset. “Bit of a harsh way to refer to your own mother but then, you didn’t pick her.”

Nick had met the woman and though he didn’t agree with John turning to chems so young, he supposed he could understand. The woman was manipulative, used anyone she could until they got wise, and did her best to make sure John knew his conception was an accident and that Richard was her favorite son. She was a poor excuse for a person and an even worse mother.

“Richard cared for you more than he let on.” Nick told him, deciding to run with the theme of family for now. “Every time you ran off he was in my office demanding I go get you before you got yourself killed or worse. He was right to worry one of those times. Found you just in time to rescue you from slavers that thought you were pretty. I think that’s the angriest I’ve ever been, seeing them drag you away by your hair. Lucky there's no more hair to pull, huh?”

John gurgled, but didn’t otherwise respond, then left to tackle Jingleheimer which started a small but not truly violent fight amongst the whole pack. Hatchetface was excluded, being treated as the baby of the pack most times. Nick huffed, annoyed at being abandoned without ceremony.

“I feel like Jane Goodall…” Nick said dryly.

 

Nick continued to tell John about himself, good and bad. He hoped it would bring about a response, but John never replied in any intelligent manner. Of course he didn’t. Nick supposed he should stop expecting him to. It had been nearly three years now. If John was going to come back to himself he surely would have done so by now, but the only change in John was the fact he had begun to glow faintly along his spine. Nick was running out of stories anyway.

_Just go home. It’s not like he’ll get in trouble way out here._

Nick usually went out of his way to be contradictory toward Kellogg’s re-established presence in his mind, but he was tired and the damn virus had a point. Emotionally, of course, not physically. It was the same thing to Nick, given he didn’t need physical rest. Ellie needed him to come back at some point, if she didn’t think he was dead. Someone should probably explain what had happened to Hancock to Goodneighbor and check on Fahrenheit. Nick couldn’t stay in the Sea forever waiting for something that wasn’t ever going to happen. John was safe and that was the best he could hope for at this point.

“You better stay in the mists, John.” Nick said softly to the ghoul he knew didn’t understand him anyway. “Stay safe, okay?” _I love you,_ Nick thought, but didn’t say because he knew the words would be wasted.

With that, Nick stood to leave. The ferals retreated slightly, not used to the synth standing. He had spent the better part of three years seated on the ground, so he could see why he might be intimidating at his full height. They wouldn’t have to tolerate him anymore, so it didn’t matter. 

As the synth walked away from the pack, and John, he had the strangest urge to cry. It was silly. He didn’t have tear ducts, but he didn’t have a heart either and he’d been feeling it slowly shatter for years. The best he could do was scream but that would just attract the attention of who knows what, so he just held in the need, quite literally filing it away for later.

Distracted as he was, Nick failed to notice the Deathclaw.


	23. Chapter 23

The noisy warm thing left. Hunting alone wasn’t smart. Could get attacked. Could get dead. Alone wasn’t safe; Wasn’t smart. Stupid, noisy, Warm Thing. Better follow. Keep it safe. Keep _him_ safe. Help hunt and get to eat.

Where the leading ghoul went, its pack would follow, so the pack followed the warm thing, but gave him space in case he was mad. Lots of things could hurt a ghoul if the thing was mad. Hard to tell if Warm Thing was mad or scared since it didn’t ever smell like mad or scared. It didn’t smell like much of anything, really. Such a weird thing, the Warm Thing was.

Warm Thing didn’t protest to being followed and maybe it was because he didn’t even notice. The pack _was_ keeping a polite distance, after all. Warm Thing seemed distracted. A lot of things were distracting though. Light, noise, touching; All annoying distractions.

Warm Thing didn’t see the Big Sharp…

 

Before Nick could even react, he felt himself lifted off of the ground. He got a good look at the deathclaw’s face before it threw him. The thing seemed pissed. Nick felt something in him click out of place, but he could fix it later. For now the best thing for him to do was to play dead. This had happened before. It wouldn’t work for a fleshy man, but Nick didn’t have any meat to him. The big lizard would leave him alone once it realized it couldn’t eat him.

But then there was John, screaming and charging at the deathclaw. Or mock-charging. Nick was glad he still had the sense to stay out of reach of the thing’s arms or tail. Nick’s plan to play dead was abandoned when the deathclaw turned to face its new target.

Nick stood quickly and reached for his revolver, but his right arm was hanging out of his shoulder awkwardly and he couldn’t move it correctly. That was the click, then. Close range meant he could shoot left-handed at least. 

“Thought I told you to stay safe!” Nick shouted, taking a shot at the deathclaw’s leg. The bullet caught the tail instead, which swung at Nick in response. 

The other ferals showed, clearly wanting to retreat but standing by their leader and joining in his screaming. The deathclaw roared right back, but John just screeched louder. After a moment, much to Nick’s surprise, the deathclaw actually took a step back away from the pack of ferals.

_We better go stand by them._

Nick silently agreed, but John was already circling around to join him and the other ferals followed. The deathclaw was visibly confused, not attacking but not fully retreating either. Another moment and Nick added his own voice to the mix and the stream of static caused by his volume was the last straw to the big lizard, who decided it wasn’t worth the fuss. It lumbered away, the ferals taking turns charging and retreating to make sure the deathclaw stayed away. John stayed next to Nick, a growl apparent in his breath.

“Well… At least I know you can take care of yourself…” Nick said, lowering his voice. He put his gun away, glad he hadn’t had to waste much ammo, and set to try popping his shoulder back where it was meant to go.

“Nnnuh… ekhhh…” John gurgled, and Nick stilled. 

All of the ferals made noise, but that was it. It was always just noises; Growling, screeching, whining. This was different. Deliberate. There were consonants, slurred though they were. If the detective didn’t know better he’d think John had tried to speak.

“Nuh…” John tried again, though he didn’t get as far.

The attempt at the same word or whatever it was definitely got Nick’s attention. John even looked almost focused, and Nick leaned toward him. Three years and Nick had given up on the hope that this could happen.

 _“What?”_ Nick asked, hoping he wasn’t just seeing something that wasn’t really there.

John whimpered, squinting at nothing. His face scrunched and his whole body began to tremble. Nick cupped his face to make eye contact and noticed the sheen of fresh tears.

Ferals didn’t cry.

“Try again. What did you say?” Nick pleaded. “Say it again. I’m listening now.”

John just started to breathe faster, and he choked out a sob. 

“You’re okay. Take your time. I know it’s hard.” Nick encouraged, circuits almost overheating with how much hope he suddenly had. 

“Nnnn… ickh…” John finally managed, looking very much like it had required a great physical effort just to get that far.

Nick recognized his name and nodded. “I’m right here.”

John let out a deep, shuddering sigh, and he fell forward. Nick caught him before he could hit the ground. John clung to Nick’s clothes, jagged nails scraping through the fabric, and continued to cry. 

“I’ve got you.” Nick said softly. “Stay with me. Please.”

John didn’t seem to be able to say any more, but his grip on Nick’s shirt stayed strong. He was shaking and crying and all he wanted to do was go home. He was tired, too. So fucking tired. 

Nick kept a closer watch on John after he spoke. He didn’t do it again and slept too much, but he was still aware of himself while he was awake. He was obviously weak and still sensitive to light and noise, but he didn’t seem to be feral anymore. At this rate John would either die of general weakness or slowly recover. Nick let himself hope for the latter.

The next few weeks were a blur to John, but he stayed lucid the few times he was actually awake. Mostly lucid, anyway. He was aware he was being carried, kept calm by the whir of a fan and oddly faint smell of cigarettes. He honestly wasn’t sure sometimes if he was awake, dreaming, or dying but he felt safe in Nick’s arms.

Soon he saw the neon sign welcoming him home to the gate of Goodneighbor, then the overdone sign of the Memory Den. Nick put him down somewhere soft and John let himself drift off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part One
> 
> My Fallout blog is brahminjerkybadass.tumblr.com if anybody wants to get in my ask box to yell at me for this trainwreck. Got anon on and everything.


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